


A Lake Full of Swans

by Wynja2007



Category: Matthew Bourne's 'Swan Lake', The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical disaster, Difficult Mothers Who May Have Reasons, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Gatecrashing, M/M, Major Canonical Deaths, Medicinal Drug Use, Not a Happy Ending sorry..., Relationship of Convenience, Side Effects, Swans, We Know How This Ends, Worrying About Glorfindel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynja2007/pseuds/Wynja2007
Summary: It was the swans that saved us, in the end.They say now it was the eagles, but I never quite trusted them.  I encountered them at whiles, on duty at the Great Gate, and the expression in their hard, amber eyes alarmed me.Besides which, the wild creatures of Blessed Yavanna’s invention want different things from those we elves want, so why should we expect them to understand or help us?No, it was the swans.  They flew across the skies as the remnants of our people fled to safety, taking on the smaller winged horrors pitted against those below; the giant bats, the black, wicked crows.The swans.  And Glorfindel, of course.What I remember most about those moments were the colours; the white of the swans, the gold of his hair, the blue of his eyes.His house colours were red and gold, but always when I see blue, I think of him, his eyes, his beautiful, golden hair.





	1. Glorfindel

**Author's Note:**

> No prior knowledge of Matthew Bourne's 'Swan Lake' is needed for this story, but it seemed, to me, to be a new way of looking at Gondolin just before its fall.
> 
> If you're interested in learning more about Matthew Bourne's ground-breaking production of 'Swan Lake', there are many links online which will give you all the information you need. I will just say here that this version has been astonishing audiences for over twenty years. The main difference in the Bourne adaptation is that the swans - traditionally performed by female dancers - are now danced by men. There are plenty of sites online which will give more detail about this stunning ballet. I'm not quite sure why I thought of Glorfindel as the Swan/Stranger, but once I had, of course Ecthelion had to be written as the Prince.
> 
> The first person I ever saw in the role of the Swan/Stranger was a dancer called Adam Cooper. I've seen it danced by others since, but he will forever be 'my' Swan.
> 
>  

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion visits a lake and sees someone there with the swans...

It was the swans that saved us, in the end.

They say now it was the eagles, but I never quite trusted them. Turgon’s unofficial guards on the mountains, they seemed at times. I would encounter them occasionally, while I was on duty at the Great Gate, and sometimes the expression in their hard, amber eyes, so unearthly it seemed, alarmed me.

Besides which, of course, the wild creatures of Blessed Yavanna’s invention want different things from those we elves want, so why should we expect them to understand or help us?

No, it was the swans. They flew across the skies as the remnants of our people fled towards the Secret Way, taking on the smaller winged horrors pitted against those below; the giant bats, the black, wicked crows, the small fire drakes.

The swans. And Glorfindel, of course.

He seemed to have an innate bond with the creatures; often he could be found on the banks of the lake, surrounded by the creatures, looking them in the eye and smiling as he handed out morsels of corn or grain, all of them polite and gentle with him despite their size and undoubted strength. When one stretched out its wings, its span was twice that my own arms would make, and when the bird raised up, for a moment it was taller than Glorfindel himself. He would laugh, and grin in that golden way of his, as around him the other birds, all white and cream plumage and muscular, powerful bodies, would stretch and reach and mask him from sight, so that at times it seemed he was more swan than elf.

I would watch, usually unremarked, and find the breath catch in my throat at the glory of the spectacle.

What I remember most about those moments were the colours; the white of the swans, the gold of his hair, the blue of his eyes.

His house colours were red and gold, but always when I see blue, I think of him, his eyes, his beautiful, golden hair.

*

We knew each other, of course. How not, in a closed society such as Gondolin? We were of similar rank and status, we served together, more than once, but outside of our warrior service, we tended to move in different circles.

This was not entirely by choice, not on my part. How Lord Glorfindel felt about it, I did not have chance to find out.

My father had died in one of the many, many battles we had faced since coming to Gondolin, and my mother was keen for my sisters and me to find ‘friends’, as she phrased the matter. ‘Spouses’ was what she really meant. She filled the house with elves of the right sort, to her way of thinking, fine young warriors, beautiful maidens… she would have been horrified to learn that it was not the young maidens’ company I preferred, nor to learn that one of my sisters was more admiring of the ladies than was proper. Rather, my mother commented on how noble it was of me to befriend these young heroes-in-waiting, to get to know them on behalf of the family.

‘For your opinion on the character of these ellyn,’ she confided in me one day, ‘may be of vital importance for your sisters’ happiness.’

I never told her that most of the ellyn gathered at her parties were there for the food, or the wine, or, in some cases, to look me over even as I looked at them… she would have been distressed, and I knew I had a duty to my family which came before my own preferences.

Besides, my heart was already another’s.

It belonged, I belonged, to Glorfindel. 

At first I thought it was just the scene that moved me; I have always loved the waters that stretch themselves out across our land, the rivers and streams, the still, sweeping lakes, the glorious fountains.

This particular lake lay between high, rocky walls at its western end, narrowing towards the mountains. On the northern bank a boat house perched above the water, empty for decades, beginning to moulder into slow decay; the river further down had become impassable after a winter of rock falls, and the keeper of the boats had moved away to a different, friendlier lake.

As the river flowed more slowly, so the lake grew, until it found its new level. Debate was had as to whether or not the land was more important than the water, but it was felt that the blocking of the river lower down its course would be advantageous to our security and, besides, there would be fish on the lake, and wildfowl that could be hunted for food. 

At its broadest, the lake was beautiful, spread across the plain like a silver, shimmering blanket. Rolling greensward and soft hills enfolded it, a small copse of trees graced its banks and in its midst, a low island made a haven for a variety of wildfowl and other sundry creatures. 

Really, it was a lovely spot, but not one I tended to frequent; I have always delighted more in the rushing, dancing waters, so the trammelling of the river had saddened me for a time. 

To this day I am not sure what it was that drew me back there; a chance word, perhaps, from Rog or Egalmoth, something said by my sister, perhaps, a different path taken one day… but however it was, once I rediscovered the place, saw from its beauty that it had made peace with its enforced alterations…

And that was when I saw Glorfindel, and the swans, and the sun on the water, and my heart got lost somewhere in the sight of all this glory, the blue and the white and the gold.

*

After that, I went often, not quite spying on him, but certainly watching, and trying not to be noticed, for how would I explain it, other than to say something about being Lord of the Fountains and water drawing me, but then, this was a lake, not a dancing foam of pluming spray. Gradually, it dawned on me that however beautiful the lake, it was never so beautiful when Glorfindel was not present.

One day, I went to the lake, and he was not there. I had taken with me a bag of such morsels as I thought the swans would like, and, lacking his company, the birds raised the heads and sailed themselves across to the bank, to see if I might do in his stead.

I am tall, some say taller than Glorfindel was, but only when he wears his hair flat, but almost I match him for height, if not actual muscular power, but the swans, gentle at first, soon realised I was not their usual benefactor and crowded in on me, daring to grow restive, and to lunge for the bag of corn and grain. It was terrifying, and I say this as one who has fought Orcs and Wargs and other sundry horrors, but nothing quite compared to seeing these serene and beautiful creatures turn fierce and demanding. 

I did not quite drop the bag and run, but I did back away and throw handfuls of corn as far from me as I could to distract them. This reduced my pursuers by two thirds of their number, but the rest still daunted me.

Just as I found myself backed against a tree, help arrived.

A laughing, golden voice calling, the sort of sounds a person would make when calling the hens for their feed.

‘Here chuck-chuck-chuck!’ it called, repeated, and the swans inconveniencing me turned and hastened towards the voice, losing some of their dignity in the process.

I relaxed, exhaled, gathered myself and felt supremely embarrassed for it was, of course, Glorfindel himself who had come to my rescue. When I recovered enough to look, I saw him surrounded by his swans – and they did seem so, his swans, laughing and pushing at them as they pushed at him. It seemed that a bag of feed was distributed in a half minute or so, and he brushed off his hands and backed away from them, showing them his palms.

He came to a halt by my tree.

‘I am grateful, Lord Glorfindel!’ I gasped out.

‘Lord Ecthelion, you are most welcome,’ he said, a rich note of humour still evident in his voice. ‘The thing is with swans…’

He paused, looking across at the birds who had made short work of the grain bag and were starting to edge back towards the lake.

‘Yes, the thing is… they are intelligent creatures. But… they are not really clever. They sensed your fear – to which you did not give in, I note with respect – but they were not able to see your courage in the same way. So they pressed home their advantage. Do forgive them, I am late today and they are hungry.’

‘Of course, Lord Glorfindel.’

‘You know,’ he began ruminatively, ‘there are only the swans to hear us. You can call me Findel, if you like.’

‘Thank you. Thel is fine, if you wish.’

‘May I ask something, Thel? I am curious, this is not the first time I’ve seen you here. What is it about the swans that draws you?’

‘The only other birds I know that can even approach these swans in size and power are the eagles, and they are cold, alien creatures. When I take up my harp or my pipes, I can play the tunes of the smaller birds, the song-birds’ trills, I can describe the ascent of the lark and the sweep of a hawk across the skies, but I cannot capture the eagle; whatever instrument I pick up, all I play is discord, or strident, dangerous runs of notes. I sought to learn the swans, so that I might portray them in music. Their grace and strength, their beauty,’ I said, although I may not have been describing only the swans, nor giving all my reasons for being there. 

‘I would like to hear you play a song of swans,’ Findel said. ‘In truth, I would like to hear you play anything.’

‘Anything, then, it will have to be, for I only have my small reed pipe with me today.’

I smiled and moved away from the tree, seeking somewhere to sit. An outcrop of rock provided me with a seat, and Findel spread his cloak on the ground and sat looking up at me, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms loosely around his knees.

Although it was true that I played the song-bird’s tunes with some ease, I had never tried to play swans before, and I was not sure quite how to begin. So instead, I looked at the scene beyond us, the lake a silver shimmer under pale skies, the swans now sailing back to the island in its midst, the play of the light on the water, the different textures and shade of plumage, took a breath, and let my hands play with the pipe as I freed the sound.

Soft at first, sweet and pure as sunrise, the notes came, describing the morning light arriving in almost a whisper of revelation. The tune soared high as the sun rose, descended to the surface of the lake, spread across it. I found a simple melody for the swans, a five-note crescendo like to a clarion call, intimating their strength and preparedness. Moving to a different key, I played their voyage to the bank, the sharp, brisk movements as they sought food, I played in the softness of their feathers, the danger of their muscles, and I added a final layer, a heroic, daring theme that pushed back at the musical threat and overcame it with light notes, repeated, and I ended with a flourish and a wistful fading-away of the main swan’s theme as they retreated to their midwater sanctuary.

When I stopped and looked up, I was almost surprised to see Glorfindel sitting there, even though I had made him part of the music; I had lost myself in the creation.

‘That was lovely!’ he said. ‘How long did it take you to write?’

Write?

‘How long have I been playing for you?’ I asked. ‘That long, and as long as I have been   
coming here.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, there was more to it than just the swans, was there not?’

‘Yes. The lake, the setting, the light… all of it, really.’

‘Ah. And there I was hoping it was me.’

He said it with a grin and a wink, suggesting he didn’t mean it, really, but I found myself hoping he had been.

‘It is good to finally talk to you, outside of duty rotas and such,’ he went on. ‘Tell me, Ecthelion, why are we not better friends?’

‘I can think of no reason,’ I said. ‘May I be forward and ask you something?’

He grinned and winked. ‘Yes, please, and of course you may!’

‘My mother is trying to marry us off – my sisters and me. I was wondering why you haven’t married yet?’

‘Ah.’ Glorfindel looked at the grass near his feet for a moment. ‘Take care there, Thel; there are few things worse than getting an answer to a question; you may hear something you don’t want to hear. Or something you think you want to.’

I nodded as if this made sense. 

‘Well, Findel. I had better go. I have something I must do somewhere else, I… thank you again for rescuing me from your friends. If… if you would like to be better friends, I am sure you would be welcome at one of my mother’s lunches.’

I rose, pocketed my flute, and Findel got to his feet as well.

‘Thel, you are very welcome. And thank you for the encouragement. Next time she invites me, I promise I’ll accept.’

‘Next time?’

Findel rolled his eyes and grinned.

‘Every month I have a polite formal note from the Lady Mother of the Lord of the House of the Fountains, asking me to dinner, or a party, or lunch… So far, I’ve not been tempted, but now… only, I would not want to get the good lady’s hopes up. At least, not where her daughters are concerned.’

He lifted a hand in farewell and was gone before I could respond, leaving me bewildered and delighted, hoping and fearing and utterly, utterly in love.

*

Then began a part of my life that seems timeless and yet swiftly over, an agony of joy lasting for months which passed as if in days, marked out by meetings with Glorfindel. He would make a point of seeking me out at arms practice, sounding me out in body as we worked and in mind as we sparred verbally. That I matched him, and even beat him, at times, was a joy to us both, I think. I learned his keen sense of humour and deep intelligence, his reverence for life – even that of our enemies. He disliked Turgon’s standing orders that any captured foes should be interrogated ‘to the utmost’, and despised those who found a sort of wild delight in the act.

(‘It is not revenge, though they claim that is why they are so willing,’ he once confided in me. ‘It is yet another way the Enemy destroys us, by turning us into copies of himself. Never hate, Ecthelion, unless you can love at the same time. It will make Orcs of us all, this torture we are supposed to inflict.’)

I remember that still, and will carry it with me always. If I had sons, I would tell them the same thing, too.

So. Glorfindel and I walked together, practiced together, ate together at my mother’s various events. If she thought he was interested in the eldest of my sisters, and if, as a result, she invited him more often, well, my sister Sídhneth didn’t mind.

‘He is not my type,’ she said to me privately. ‘And I would remind you, my dear brother, that although he may be your type, it is forbidden within the bounds of Gondolin.’

‘Your secret is safe with me,’ I told her. 

‘Ah, but nobody believes it of ellith,’ she said with a smile that tried not to be sad. ‘We can get away with the mischief! But if ever you need me to cover for you…’

‘It is kind, but I do not think he looks at me so,’ I said, for although the day we met by the lake, he had teased and seemed to be flirting, our friendship had deepened since, and I thought I was aching alone for him. ‘He spends too much time with ellith for me to think I   
have a chance.’

This took place at a summer picnic my mother had said we should hold on the grassed slopes of the hill in sight of the lake where Glorfindel’s swans made their home. After we had eaten and drunk and relaxed, the party breaking down into little groups, I found myself alone with Glorfindel. He shifted position on the grass.

‘Play for me, Thel,’ he said. ‘I haven’t been able to get to my swans for three days, and I want to feel them again.’

‘I’ll try to remember it,’ I said, almost dreading what was to come, for my mother was ever trying to get me to play at her parties, and I usually declined. ‘And, bear in mind, it may have changed, evolved as I have spent more time with you. At the lake. With the swans.   
Oh. Yes, the tune. Where is my pipe…?’

I fumbled and patted my pockets, trying to recover from my slip my pretending I’d lost my instrument.

‘I’ll help you look, if you like,’ Findel offered, a sly note to his voice that made me laugh in spite of my embarrassment.’

‘No, I am fine, here it is!’ I said, retrieving the pipe. ‘My mother would have fit!’

He laughed, and I laughed, and I began to play, allowing my instrument to remember the melodies and the beauty of the lake, the light, the swans and Findel, following the original theme. But the deepening of my friendship with Findel had changed something about the tune, and it grew wistful and longing, as one might, watching the swans fly free overhead while we are trammelled in a prison of white marble and gold sunlight and green grass… 

After a time, I ran out of notes and stopped playing. Applause surrounded me and, I jumped. Once again, I had forgotten I was not alone, and the sight of Glorfindel, seated so close, startled me as much as the appreciations of my mother’s guests. Findel smiled, leaned forward, and kissed me swiftly on the lips, there and not there, sitting back as quickly as he had moved in.

‘Thank you, Thel,’ he said, as I stared at him with burning cheeks and my heart beating against my ribs as if trying to flee my chest. ‘That was beautiful… Oh, what?’ he demanded as my mother bore down upon us. ‘My lady, you may not know, but it is quite unexceptional for one brother-in-arms to kiss another, as if they were actual siblings. It is a warrior thing, I do not expect you to understand it. But is it not so, Rog?’ he asked more broadly, appealing to our mutual friend who had also come to the picnic.

‘Oh, most definitely!’ Rog said, lying through his teeth but looking as if he meant every word. ‘Such displays, dear lady, are not a matter for scorn or concern.’

‘You are my guests,’ my mother said, including Rog in the mischief. ‘Today, at least. But such displays, however much they may be tolerated on the parade grounds, are disrespectful to my hospitality and so are a matter for displeasure! The behaviour of the barracks is not fit for respectable parties, and so I beg you to bear this in mind at future gatherings.’

‘My lady Mother…’ I began, but she waved me to silence.

‘Hush Ecthelion, it is obvious you have been taken in by Lord Glorfindel’s ways. We will speak more of this later. Now, come with me, Lady Glingaernaeth is waiting to talk to you…’

She held out a peremptory hand, and all but hauled me to my feet. I looked an apology at Findel, but he laughed and cast around him, his eyes lighting on my sister.

‘Ho, Lady Sídhneth! What did you think of that, eh?’

‘A wonderful tune, I have not heard it before,’ she said, coming to my rescue. ‘What do you call it, Thel?’

‘Its working title is “A Lake Full of Swans”. I haven’t written it down yet, it’s quite new…’

‘Ecthelion! Come along!’ my mother demanded, and I had no choice but to bow and follow.

*

That night, after dinner as I was trying to put the melody down on parchment, my mother came to my room.

‘We need to talk, Ecthelion,’ she said, coming to stand just inside the doorway and look at me from across the room. Her hands met in front of her body, fingers lacing and unlacing, an unconscious habit she had when nervous or anxious about something. ‘It is about your friends.’

‘My friends? Which ones? Rog? I thought you liked him, good family, not married but willing to take a chance on the right lady, I thought you had him in mind for Sídhneth! Or, do you mean Findel? Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, who you’ve been trying to entice to your parties for decades…? What about my friends, mother?’

She sniffed tipped her head up and away from me in displeasure.

‘What he did today was uncalled for,’ she said. ‘Lord Glorfindel will ruin you, if something like that happens again. It does not matter whether he is so inclined, and it most assuredly has nothing to do with whether or not you were willing or no… although that any child of mine… In short, Ecthelion, while I will not forbid you his friendship – it would look worse that way – if you are to salvage the reputation of our family, if you are to make sure the hopes of your sisters are not blighted by this taint… then you must marry.’

‘But I am a warrior, Mother, I go into battle, I come home wounded. One day, I may not come home at all; what sort of prospects have I to offer an elleth? She would be a young widow… and if I were to marry, Mother, you would become the Dowager Lady of the Fountain, rehomed in one of the lesser buildings in the House complex…’

‘That would not matter, not if you had done your duty to our House…’

‘Mother!’ I abandoned my seat and closed the distance between us. She backed away to the very doorway. ‘Mother, you make it sound as if that is all you want, a grandchild, and me dead so I don’t get in your way! Presumably you would have me select an elleth whom you have already decided will be no trouble to you if I marry and are then slain, one who would let you keep your position and status? But I have no wish to force into this world of darkness a child who would have to grow up here, perhaps parentless.’

‘Now you are being difficult,’ she said, taking a step back so she was beyond the threshold of my room. ‘Well. You need not rush into anything, but begin to pay more attention to the ladies I introduce you to. There are two or three I think would be very suitable, and who will not be too put off by today’s little incident. I only want what’s best, Ecthelion, what your father would have wanted…’

‘Mother…’ 

I opened my arms, offering myself in apology, but she wanted none of it, would not allow me to hug her. Instead she swept off down the corridor towards her suite; she had always been distant, for as long as I could remember, and I think if she had touched us more, hugged us, even shaken us, if we’d needed it, we would have found it easier to understand her, for her to understand us.

I did not want to get married.

At least, not to an elleth, and the alternative was forbidden.

But the kiss, the soft, unexpected brush of Findel’s lips against mine, there and gone, soft as a feather’s flutter…


	2. Glorfindel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion makes a new friend

We met at the lake next morning, after practice but before lunch. Findel was already there when I arrived, and looked over his shoulder at me from amidst the swans.

‘I didn’t think you’d come,’ he said. ‘With your mother, and all.’

‘Well, she cannot actually forbid me anything, only make my life unpleasant if I do not comply with her wishes.’

‘Ah, you are young, and she worries…’

‘You and I are more or less of an age, Findel,’ I pointed out. ‘I crossed the Helcaraxë as did you. I only seem young because I live at home and allow my mother to believe I am still young enough to need her.’

‘You’re good to her, Ecthelion, there’s no doubting it. But if you had a place of your own, nearer the barracks, nobody could complain…’

‘That’s true, but then my sisters would have nobody there to watch out for them.’

‘You’re good to your sisters, too. Was it all right, I mean? After I embarrassed everyone?’

‘Oh, Findel! Don’t! Don’t blame yourself!’ I said, laying my hand on his arm. He looked down and smiled, laid his own hand over my fingers.

‘Thel, it was unconscionable of me. I… want to explain. Can we sit?’

‘Of course.’

I moved my hand from his arm, but he entwined his fingers with mine, gave a little squeeze.

‘We’re safe here,’ he said. ‘The swans keep watch, they know to call if any but you are here. But it’s not completely safe, I suppose. It’s still… someone might see too much, if there’s more to see than this, before the swans call out. And you are young. Young in fëa, if not in form, Thel. Inside the bounds of Gondolin, it’s forbidden, punishable by death, as if there aren’t enough ways for us to lose our lives. Outside, it’s different, the captains turn a blind eye, but remind us we’ll be home again soon enough. And…’

‘Findel,’ I said, tugging him down to sit on the warm grass at my side. ‘I know this; I was at Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and I had companionship on the way.’

‘Did you? Must have missed that, I didn’t see anyone hanging around you…’

‘Well, you and I were hardly marching side by side. He… he died in the battle. I don’t speak of him often, not at all in front of his parents.’

‘Are you still grieving for him?’ Findel’s voice was carefully neutral. 

‘No, not for many years. He was nice, he sought me, he is gone, I have mourned him and sung for his soul, it was enough. But my point is, I am not the almost-elfling you would make of me, Findel, I know my nature and I well know the dangers. But you were going to explain why you kissed me so chastely yesterday, in front of the gathered nobility of my mother’s friends…?’

‘Yes, that.’ He grinned, shaking his head at me. ‘Sometimes a chaste kiss is better than one of fully blown passion, Thel, but that’s a conversation for another time… well.’

He paused to lift his head and stare into the sky, sighing to himself, as if arranging the story in his mind before he began telling the tale.

‘I do not want to cause difficulties for anyone,’ he said. ‘And I do not wish to name any names, but yesterday, while you were busy helping your sister, one of the ladies bespoke my aid with something near where the horses were tethered. At this distance from the group, under cover of the shade and shadows, she… and I feel myself blush to say it… laid inappropriate hands upon my person. I backed away with as much grace as I could, pretending I had not taken note of her intent, and claimed I was hailed by someone in the company. Thus I extricated myself from an awkward situation, but it plagued me how to let the lady know she was very, very wrong about me.’

‘And so you kissed me to show where your preferences lay.’ I tried not to mind, but really, to be used so was not kind to my fëa. Although I had enjoyed the kiss. 

‘No!’ Findel protested, ‘Stars, Thel, no! Not consciously! That is, the music was lovely, and you are lovely, and I needed a little consoling after my close escape. It was only after that I realised she would have seen, and that she could not now claim not to realise… but it was not nice of me to cause you such embarrassment. You should have pushed me away or hit me, or…’

‘But it was nice,’ I said. ‘And I took it as you meant it, as thanks for the music. Although I would gladly have helped you with your wanton lady, it would have been kinder if you could have told me sooner…’

‘This is the soonest I could arrange. To call at your house yesterday would have been far more difficult. I am sorry, Thel. Kiss and make up?’

This made me laugh, and I leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly.

‘There, my dear friend, all is forgiven. But you are right, even with your swans on guard, we cannot risk falling foul of the laws. No doubt we will be sent outside the walls on duty again soon… if it should be your wish,’ I added hastily, for he had still not said clearly what his wishes might be.

‘Oh, Thel, the things I wish… I cannot help, you know, but wonder what would have happened had we just remained in Valinor! Tirion the fair, how I miss her! But then, I had kin who were making the crossing, kin who had taken no vows, and it seemed well to me to support them.’

‘Yes. For good or ill, we braved the ice, and we are at least safe, after a fashion.’

‘So, I was thinking… I had better not show my face at too many of your mother’s parties for a time. Not only for the shame that I brought on you with my ill-judged kiss, but to avoid the unwanted affections of…’

He broke off as if stopping himself from naming the lady who had importuned him.

‘Is she often a guest of my mother’s?’ I asked.

‘She is often at your mother’s parties,’ he told me, his voice level and flat.

‘Oh, do not fear, I shall not try to guess; I shall just keep my distance from all the ladies. I already endeavour to do so.’

‘Here, Thel, you’ve something snagged in your hair, I think when we ducked under the trees… may I help?’

‘If you like,’ I said cautiously, for the touch of any hands in my hair other than my own was not common for me.

‘Thank you; I will not hurt you, I promise.’

Gently he touched my braids, working away at a bit of twig or whatever it was that had become entangled. The process seemed to demand unbraiding that particular part of my hair and rebraiding it, and then rebraiding the other side of my head to match. 

‘That’s pleasant,’ I said, relaxing under the touch of his fingers. ‘It is many years since I was braided.’

‘Well, it is no hardship, Thel, you hair is beautiful, and far better behaved than my tangled locks!’

‘Spun gold, your hair, Findel…’ 

‘Ha, more like corn straw, when it’s washed! But did nobody help with your hair? Your mother?’

‘Oh, not for as long as I can remember!’ I said. ‘As children, as soon as we could manage, we were encouraged to do so, with prompting from the servants. My mother did not like to touch us – that is, she is not a demonstrative lady.’

‘Is that so?’ Glorfindel murmured, but I did not understand why.

‘Yes. Perhaps because she has been widowed so long, she does not reach out any longer.  
But again, I repeat, I am not just out of my elflings years, Findel!’

‘Well, I’m done, and you’re snag free and tidy again.’

‘Thank you. You are very gentle, Findel.’

‘You’re very welcome, Ecthelion. So… when your mother got you home, was she really unpleasant or…?’

‘Ah. No, we did not talk until the night. She said she would not forbid my friendships – I forbore from telling her it was not something she had the right to do in any case – but that there was now a scandal and a stain on the family reputation…’

Glorfindel groaned and I laughed, shaking my freshly-braided head at him.

‘You asked, Findel, you did! Well. Her solution to this is that I marry. My solutions is that I keep quiet until it all blows over… The gracious lady who is my mother has said I need not rush, which is something. Needless to say, I certainly shall not hurry, and be assured, I have no wish to marry within the walls of Gondolin in any case!’

‘It’s not fair, is it?’ Glorfindel said. ‘You’d think Turgon would be happy that we weren’t marrying, helping keep the population down to safe levels… ah, well.’ 

He stretched and sighed, lying back and extending an arm in a sort of invitation for me to cuddle in.

‘I wish I could stay longer, but I have to go soon,’ I said, but reclined and put my head on his shoulder, looking up through the dappled shade of the trees above us. The clouds were white against the lovely blue, and I had the gold of Glorfindel’s hair cascading about his shoulders, blue, white, gold, the colours of my heart.

*

Two days later, things had calmed down at home. But when I met with Findel near the lake, although my heart lifted at the sight of him, there with his swans, it fell again as I tried to find a way to break my news to him.

‘Hello, Thel!’ he said, loping up (and followed by a host of protesting swans, interrupted in their feeding). ‘You look glum and glad at the same time! What’s up?’

 

‘I am glad to find you here, of course,’ I began. ‘Shall we finish feeding your friends as we talk?’

‘If you wish. Are you well, Thel?’

The rhyme made me smile. I nodded, and we went to the banks, swans flowing around us, ruffling their feathers up at me as the reason they had been inconvenienced. Soon they forgave me though, as Findel and I stood side-by-side, casting corn and grain out into the lake for them. It was good to be here, to be able to look at the lake, my hands, the swans, as I told my tidings.

‘I am sent to be Warden of the Great Gate again,’ I said, blurting it out as if I were confessing to a kinslaying. ‘I go tomorrow, for a moon’s-round. It is soon, I am usually not expected to serve twice in the same year, but I was there…’

‘You were there three months ago. Hmm… I wonder… I would be tempted to suggest it is an attempt to keep us apart, but really, I’ve been given orders, too. A short patrol, outside – so I will at least be able to wave at you as I pass by – beginning in three days. Now, were one of us ordered away…’

‘…it would look as if someone were interfering, as you say, to separate us. But since both of us are sent, and on different duty, it does not look like it. Although undoubtedly, it is, and this is someone’s attempt to make it seem entirely accidental…’

Findel laughed, freeing my heart with the sound.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s just a coincidence, especially as I’m supposed to be serving at Turgon’s court at the same time… Well. It will happen, we will serve where we are sent and then we will come back and things will be quiet again, it will look as if we have taken our punishment and all will be calmer.’

‘I hope so. It means I will have to wear that formal armour again for ten hours at a time! It is very decorative, but a little restrictive.’

‘It is indeed beautiful, Thel…! I must make sure to see you ride out, all in silver and diamonds!’

‘It needs so much care!’ I grumbled on. ‘Even my esquire complains about all the polishing. And the helm…!’ I went on. ‘The topmost spike is so tall it catches on the low arches, if I do not duck my head! Which does not look at all elegant…!’

My companion laughed harder. ‘Well, if you want help polishing your spike, Thel, I’ll gladly volunteer!’

‘Findel! Not within fair Gondolin’s bounds!’  
‘Ah, I know.’ He exhaled slowly, regret in his tone. ‘I have been wondering… is it better not to start something that can probably never be, or to live with the knowledge of what might have been, and know one will not be responsible for leading one’s dear friend into danger? Or is there ever a chance of a life outside the walls of this elegant prison? We are not locking the enemy out as much as being locked in! And yes, we are safe, when many outside are not, but is that not worse? The dread of discovery, the constant watchfulness, and all the time knowing our kin might need us, and here we are, in hiding…!’

‘I know.’ I shook my head. ‘But leaving is not a choice we are permitted to make. And what of our kin inside the walls, if we were to leave?’

‘I have often thought of that little house down the lake. You know, where they used to keep the boats? How secluded it is, how private… and I think of how the swans might give warning, were anyone to approach…’

‘Findel…’ I began, for I was both desperate to hear where he was taking the conversation, and dreading having to refuse him for, of course, it would be too dangerous…

‘…but it would be too dangerous. It might even be a trick, to catch us out – here we are, faced with the thought of separation, what more likely (if we were breaking the laws) that we should seek to flaunt them at this moment? Even now we could be watched, from afar, or someone stationed on the hills where they could see if we were to go anywhere remotely private…’

‘Is there some sort of purge happening?’ I asked, for at times it was whispered that those who would not comply to traditional marriages were sometimes routed out, and sent on dangerous missions from which they were unlikely to return. ‘I have heard nothing, but… who is there left to speak of such things? Nobody now is obvious about their preferences.’

‘I don’t know; I would like to think it’s just a small-scale thing, a warning to us to back away from each other, perhaps instigated by your mother. Turgon thinks highly of her, and would be happy enough to respond to a whisper to keep the nasty Glorfindel away from the young and innocent Ecthelion…’

‘Ah, but we know, my friend, that it is only that I look young, and innocent.’

‘We should play along, though, do the duty, take it in our stride…’

‘…and continue to meet publicly, because that is how we will defy our enemies, by behaving as if we are only and simply friends and not utterly in love with you Glorfindel I… oh.’

Glorfindel turned to stare at me and shake his head.

‘I didn’t know,’ he said, his so-blue eyes luminous. ‘I thought it was just me. That is, I knew you liked me, but not that you… Well. It’s wonderful, but… we can’t talk of it, Thel. And you have to get married, apparently, for your mother’s sake, and your family’s.’

‘If I could leave these walls and live outside them, with you, I would,’ I said. ‘But we both have responsibilities here. It is as you say; there are people outside who might need aid. But there are people in here who need us, too. This is how they entrap us.’

‘But at least this trap is a gilded cage, and our friendship, Thel, that is always here for us.’

*

So I went to my duty at the Great Gate. In fact, it is an honour to serve there, where one’s integrity and judgement is of the utmost importance; once before I had barred someone’s way, until I could find the proof I needed that he was true of heart and fëa and would bring no harm on my people within the bounds; Lord Ulmo spoke in my heart that Tuor was true and I saw the mantling of the sea around him as a protective garment, and knew it would be well.

An honour though it be, it could be dull work at the Gate, and so it was this duty round for most of it. Nobody bothered us, except the eagles soared above the plain and stared down upon our watch. The only excitement came from watching Glorfindel’s troop ride out, a full score of warriors on patrol, and the occasional return of scouts, sent out weeks before, now on their way to report back.

‘Something is amiss somewhere,’ one said. ‘There is nothing you can pinpoint, no obvious signs. Except the world treads more softly than it should.’

‘Well, we will keep our watch,’ I said. ‘Be sure to report it up. Anything, however minor, could be part of a larger ploy to cause our downfall.’

And although we watched more closely, listened with more care than ever to the song of sky and stone, we heard no rumour in the earth to suggest anything was awry. Yet I was glad to get back to the town, and my home.

There was even a welcome for me there, although Sídhneth murmured something that floored my spirits, which had been rising at the prospect of companionship and good food and wine again.

‘Glorfindel is not here,’ she said. ‘He is still on duty outside.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘He would have passed through our Gate, and even had I not had the watch, they would have told me. Well, it was a long patrol, after all, although I do not know how long he was meant to be out. But we will hear soon enough, when he returns. And how are you?’

‘Oh, I am well,’ she told me. ‘Your other friends Rog and Egalmoth have been allowed to start visiting again, and Rog keeps the worst of my suitors at bay. It is to be hoped that Egalmoth will do the same for you, for our mother has several parties in mind…’

Several parties, indeed! For a week I was paraded here and there and everywhere! 

But once I was back in the patterns of my days, I returned to my previous practice of visiting the swans. Used to me now, my arrival without Glorfindel drew no aggression from the creatures. Instead, they stood close around me as they had used to him, and allowed me to feed them without oppressing my spirits which were, admittedly, already oppressed by the lack of Glorfindel’s presence. 

He should have been back by now, there should have been word.

At least the parties gave my mind other matters on which to dwell, at least for a few hours. Being close to the king, my mother was often invited to his formal events, and it was at one of these formal dinners at King Turgon’s palace that I met Malriniel.

One of Turgon’s court ladies pointed her out to a friend, and I happened to overhear.

‘Just look, my dear!’ she whispered behind her hand. ‘Her hair! It cannot naturally be that shade! And that dress is at least a decade old! And the colour… the last time I saw something that pink, it was in a flower garden, and it does not in the least go with her hair!’

‘Far, far too bright,’ her friend said. ‘Which is more than can be said of the whoreslap wearing it!’

The two giggled and I moved off, offended both by the tone of their talk and their use of such terms. Whoever and whatever the lady may be, she did not deserve to be talked down without an opportunity to defend herself. 

I spotted her easily, because of the colour of her gown, mostly, but then realised what the gossiping elves had meant; the lady’s hair was golden, not quite as glorious a shade as that of my friend Glorfindel, but still golden as corn. Until that moment, it had never occurred to me that perhaps one could change the colour of one’s hair, nor could I imagine why one would wish to. But it gave me another reason to wish to enquire about her. 

Unfortunately, because of how the tables were arranged, Mother and I were at the far end of the hall from the Lady in Pink, but fate intervened, as it so often does.

After we had dined, and made our way to the hall where entertainment awaited us, I heard a sound and something caught my eye; a small reticule, the sort of thing a lady carries on her wrist for display or utility, had fallen to the floor at my feet, and as I stooped to retrieve it, I saw it must belong to the mystery lady in the pink gown who was standing nearby looking somewhat bewildered; I took it to be at the crowd of people, perhaps the unkindness of some of the other guests, and took pity on her.

‘I believe this may be yours, my lady?’

‘Oh! Oh, goodness me! I am so grateful, I must have dropped it, how very kind, I am Malriniel, and you are Lord Ecthelion, goodness, Lord of the Fountains, isn’t this nice?’

‘Um… well met, Lady Malriniel. I…’ Vaguely aware that my mother was hissing at me, but not sure if I could just abandon the lady, I hesitated just a moment too long.

‘Oh, that is the Lady Rivorndis of the House of the Fountain, is it not?’ Malriniel asked. ‘Do you know her? Would you introduce us? I admire her so much, being a widow with a family to maintain, it must be so hard for her…! I know it is for my mother, and I have sisters, too, and we all need feeding, do we not?’

‘Yes, indeed, Lady Malriniel, that’s my mother…’ Although if the lady recognised me, surely she ought to know that my mother was Rivorndis… but perhaps, I thought, she had spoken without thinking; sometimes people reacted oddly around my family.

Again I hesitated. A host of Orcs and other fell creatures could not discomfit me as much as the social situation in which I found myself; it was obvious from her way of talking that Lady Malriniel was not of high and noble birth, and while I mingled enough with such folk in my daily duties to know that it matters not one jot where one was born, my mother did not quite see it in such a way. And yet there was something appealing in Lady Malriniel’s enthusiasm, and the scorn of the other ladies previously was still stinging, so I decided to demonstrate that the House of the Fountain did not care if someone wore a dress that was too old for fashion and not quite of the right hue.

Why not, then?

‘Yes. Perhaps you would sit with us for the entertainment, too? That is, if your escort will not mind?’

‘Oh, I don’t have one!’ she admitted. ‘To be quite frank, my lord, I coaxed the doorkeeper into letting me in, I… mislaid my invitation, you see. You could say.’

‘Well, come with me, then.’ 

Lady Malriniel smiled and waited, and I realised she was expecting me to offer my arm to her. I sighed to myself; really, talking to ellith was too complicated… 

It didn’t go well; Malriniel was excited and over-enthusiastic, almost falling off her shoes as she made a curtsey and grabbed my mother’s hand. Mother was most displeased, snatching away from the touch and making only the coldest, most formal of acknowledgements to Malriniel’s delight at meeting her.

I sat between the ladies for the display Turgon had arranged; acrobats and jugglers, the sort of thing we’d seen many times before. Malriniel, however, was delighted with the performance, squealing and clapping as if it were all new to her. My mother’s demeanour grew frostier than ever, and when we rose at the end of the evening, she leaned towards me and murmured ‘get rid of her!’ behind her hand to me. 

‘Allow me to escort you out,’ I said to Malriniel, interpreting my mother’s request and amending it to something more polite. ‘Have you a coat with the servants?’

‘I… not exactly,’ she said, allowing me to lead her from the hall. ‘That is, I left it with some servants… we’ll have to go to the kitchen door…’

I bit back a sigh and looked about for one of our attendants, beckoned him across; Mother always insists on us having servants with us when we visited Turgon.

‘Bespeak Lady Malriniel’s coat from the kitchens; it may have been taken there in error, so the staff may be shy of admitting to its presence. Reassure them and reimburse them for their care of the garment.’ I slipped him some coins. ‘Then return to us.’

‘My lord.’ He bowed himself away, and there was nothing to do but bear Malriniel company until her outer garment appeared from the kitchens.

‘Have you had a pleasant evening?’ I asked her, because standing together silently was making people stare as they left the hall and I was already in enough bother with my mother.

‘Yes, it’s been lovely. Wonderful, really. But the best was meeting you. And your mother, of course! Such a fine lady!’

‘Thank you. I am glad you enjoyed the entertainment.’ 

The servant arrived back and bowed. Over his arm he had a folded shawl, in the same shade as Lady Malriniel’s gown. I took it from him and draped it over my companion’s shoulders.  
She smiled up at me, blinking her eyes, leaning in; it was something I had noted other ladies would do when trying to make a favourable impression, and usually I backed away hastily. But in Malriniel, it seemed almost charming. I cleared my throat.

‘Have you far to go? Your servant waiting for you somewhere?’

‘Ah, well… no.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘I didn’t actually bring a servant… I have to get back to the Undercity, near the Eastern Quarter.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, let me send my servant with you.’ The Undercity was where some of the less fortunate members of Gondolinian society lived and worked, and some distance from Turgon’s summer palace; the way was not always safe. 

‘No, I couldn’t possibly accept; your mother would not like it, and it is not far, really. Besides, your servant seems to have gone.’

‘Wise fellow. It means I must offer my own services instead. Now, do not protest, I am quite capable of walking half a mile or so; it will do me good to stretch my legs after an evening spent sitting.’

‘Well… I would be very grateful, my lord…’

‘That’s settled, then.’

Just then my mother’s servant came over and bowed, saying nothing but giving Lady Malriniel a baleful stare. Across the hall, my mother, with my own attendant waiting with her, frowned, shaking her head, making a gesture that said I was to get over to her at once. 

I smiled and tilted my head to acknowledge her, then addressed the servant.

‘I entrust Lady Rivorndis to your care, as there is something I must do. Please inform my lady mother that I am escorting Lady Malriniel back home, and not to wait up for me. Very good.’

I led Lady Malriniel from the palace and down the steps. Overhead the sky was clear and the stars were distant brittle gems in the heavens. 

‘It is a beautiful night,’ Malriniel said.

‘Yes, indeed it is. Come, tell me about yourself as we walk; I am intrigued by a lady who dares come to a party without an escort. You are very brave!’

‘Either that or very silly!’ She smiled through fluttery eyelashes at me. ‘But I am used to it.’

I have to confess I did not often give thought to the lives and situations of those in the Eastern Quarter, or the Undercity beyond. The people I met who acknowledged it their home seemed very little different, to me, from those who lived as we did in the ranking Houses…but then, mostly I knew soldiers, grooms, and the like, and only saw them outside of their home environments. By day, the Eastern Quarter was a hub of activity, with the manufacturers and the lower-level traders doing their business, a lively, less-tidy part of Gondolin. The goods and transactions made there then moved through the city to the marketplaces, where most folk went or sent their servants for their household needs.

By night, it was very different. Empty of respectable people, there were dark corners where soft voices could be heard, offering and requesting.

‘It’s the Night Market,’ Malriniel said. ‘Ignore them. They have nothing you want, and you have nothing to offer them.’

‘But if they need help…’

‘Not such as you can give,’ she said. ‘But it’s not far now to the Undercity.’

‘So, tell me about yourself,’ I asked as we moved off through the maze of streets. ‘I have friends who live in the Undercity, they say they’ve always been there, that they just settled where they could when Gondolin was founded…’

‘You have friends from here?’ she asked. ‘Who?’

I listed half a dozen or so of the soldiers who’d served with me.

‘Yes. When you say “friends”, you really don’t mean it like that, do you? I mean, Lord  
Ecthelion is friends with Lord Egalmoth, for instance, but not with Brechon the Bold? You don’t go drinking with him the same way, or riding out, or going to parties…’

‘Well, no, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘Nor that Captain Brechon would not visit my home; we are just… not in the same circles.’

She began to nod, and sigh, and I hastened on.

‘For example, until recently I wasn’t really friends with Lord Glorfindel, because we weren’t in the same circles, that’s all. Then our paths crossed, and it changed.’

‘But you and Lord Glorfindel, and Lord Rog, and Lord Egalmoth, you are still more likely to go out for fun than you would be with Brechon. And it’s not your fault, I don’t mean that, just… it isn’t done, and so it doesn’t happen. Like me going to a party at King Turgon’s palace. But I did go, and I caused a stir, and I am very grateful to you, Lord Ecthelion, for letting me tag along with you, and for seeing me home, but the ladies were talking about me behind my back, and your mother was staring and I embarrassed you.’

‘I wasn’t aware of being embarrassed,’ I said. ‘In fact, you made a dull evening much more interesting.’

‘Thank you, Lord Ecthelion,’ she said. ‘You’re really very sweet, are you not?’

And then she kissed me.

*

I can’t pretend I enjoyed it. In fact, I think I stepped away too hastily, to see her blush and put her hand to her face as if she was ashamed of herself.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But it’s been such a nice evening, and you were so kind and I wanted to thank you, but now you will think I am just a pretend-golden-headed, one-nice-dress whoreslap with designs on you and…’

‘It has been a nice evening,’ I said. ‘And, for your information, I am wearing the exact same garments I wear to all the parties.’

‘Yes. But you’re in the uniform of King Turgon’s captains, it’s different.’

‘Well, perhaps it is. Perhaps it ought not to be, though. Malriniel, next time there is a party at my mother’s house, I’ll make sure you’re invited.’

‘Oh, no, don’t, it would be awkward… wouldn’t it…?’

‘Not for me. Of course, if you dislike the idea…’

‘No, no, I think I could cope with the honour,’ she said hastily. ‘It is very kind of you.’

‘Well, shall we get on? Where do you live?’

‘Down here.’ She pointed along the street. Homes here were smaller and less decorative than near my mother’s place, not as well kept. Beyond, the condition of the buildings deteriorated further. ‘I will be fine now. You go home, your mother will be worried. And remember, don’t stop at the Night Market!’

She hastened off into the shadows and I was left to go home alone, quickly, and ignoring the voices that called out from the darkness.  
 


	3. Brechon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion notices something amiss with the behaviour of someone at one of his mother's gatherings...

Needless to say, my mother was waiting up with a lecture for me. I had not seen her so animated since she had come to talk to me after Glorfindel had kissed me; in fact, if anything, she was angrier with me now.

‘Talking to an elleth like that, making me talk to her, you have no notion what you have done, she is completely awful!’ she said. ‘And I expect you feel sorry for her, poor little thing in the Undercity, and want to rescue her from the slums and… oh, I hope you do not expect to bring her here…!’

‘I fail to see what is so awful about Lady Malriniel,’ I said, and, in truth, I didn’t. ‘Perhaps she isn’t from one of the great Houses, but I work with people whose station is considered to be lower than hers, and they are perfectly good, noble individuals, just because she…’

‘Oh, you have no idea what That Female is like, she does not begin to compare with the people you meet at the barracks, Ecthelion! And whatever idea it is that I can see forming in your mind, put it from you, for I will not have it!’

‘But, mother,’ I said. ‘You were the one said you wanted me to mix more with ellith and less with ellyn…’

I have noted before it is often a mistake to remind people of some of the things they say, and my mother was no exception. She threw up her hands with a noise of disgust and stalked from the room. 

But, really, though, a plan was beginning to form. If I truly must marry, then why should it not be to someone of my own choice? It was true, Malriniel did not appeal to me much more than did the ellith of my mother’s choosing, but she might be glad of a secure home, and be willing not to ask questions, if ever I were called outside of Gondolin’s walls on service with Lord Glorfindel, for example. 

It was worth thinking about, perhaps, if think about marriage I must.

*

So over the next few weeks, I inserted Malriniel into our lives and tried to make her accepted. Only Sídhneth was at all supportive, and that was mostly to spite our mother.

‘Because she is such a hypocrite!’ Sídhneth said to me. ‘She says your friend flirts too much, but have you seen her with the captains? When she was handing out those awards for King Turgon, she practically fondled Captain Brechon when she pinned on his medal!’

I laughed, but I hadn’t noticed; I tended not to look at my mother, lest she was looking at me first. But now I watched and I saw that she did, indeed, take liberties with some of the young ellyn that hung around the edges of our world. At the same time, I remembered what Glorfindel had said, about a lady, often at our parties, being forward with the male guests, about how he himself had been almost mauled… casting my mind back, I could not find anyone who was more forward with the ellyn than my mother, and too often she invited the same young bloods to our home, and even though she pretended she’d invited them for my sisters’ sake, I doubted it, and when one was found in the private corridors, long after he should have gone home, I began to wonder if more than simple flirtation was taking place.

And it occurred to me that Brechon was the one I had called ‘friend’ when speaking to Malriniel, the night I took her home, and wondered I had not realised before that his coming to the house might have been a little odd… and it had ever been a signal almost for my mother to walk into the room as if by chance...

This new understanding did, however, serve to let me feel I now had some protection from my mother’s dislike of Malriniel, for I could always point out that her own behaviour was less than proper, if I had to.

*

There was a party, one night, and Brechon was there, and my mother allowed him to dance with her in a way she castigated my sisters for dancing, slow and close and with lingering touches of hand on arm and shoulder… I watched, and burned to see it.

Malriniel was at my side that night, and she patted my arm softly.

‘Don’t mind it,’ she said. ‘It’s just how widows are, is it not? And Brechon the Bold, well,   
perhaps he thinks your friendship with him means you would not mind a closer connection?’

‘He would be mistaken, then,’ I said, although even as I spoke I wondered at myself, that I would object for my mother finding companionship with one of Brechon’s standing, while I defended Malriniel at every touch and turn… ‘But it is none of my business.’

‘That’s sweet of you,’ she said. ‘Even though it really is.’

After the dancing, Malriniel went to besiege my mother with compliments and chatter, and I pondered my mother’s apparent fascination with these young captains. Perhaps it was true, she was missing my father – he had been dead some decades – but there were other widows in the City who did not disport themselves so. Or at least, so I thought. And perhaps, too, I found it hard that she would let these captains touch her, maul her, but she would never put her arm around me, or give a maternal hug, even when I was a youngling.

I saw Brechon standing alone with a drink in his hand, and I decided to take action, in an indirect sort of way.

 

Wandering over, I greeted him just as I would at any other time. His reply was friendly, his eyes wary.

‘I wanted you to know,’ I began, ‘that it has not escaped my notice that you have devoted much of your evening to my mother; she is in high favour with the king, you know.’

‘Yes, that’s well known, my lord.’

‘And for yourself, you worked you way up through the ranks to your current captaincy; this is much to your credit, for many are captains by blood or birth, and it is easy for a good warrior to be overlooked. In fact, if there were someone to remind our king who his more striving captains might be, I am sure it would only be helpful to one such as yourself, someone deserving of advancement by might of arms and courage of heart.’

‘That is certain, Lord Ecthelion. But if you think that might be why I pay my respects to the Lady Rivorndis…’

‘Not in the slightest, Brechon. After all, while she is in favour with the king, he does not listen to the ladies of Gondolin where his army is concerned; but his captains have his ear, from time to time.’

‘I sought only to be in favour with the lady, my lord… I hope you have not seen impertinence, Lord Ecthelion, when only service was intended?’

‘Oh, of course not. But if I might make a suggestion? You might do well to seek another way to serve.’

‘My lord.’

I nodded to him, beckoned the servant to refill his glass, and went to mingle with the other guests, hoping I had said enough with my conjoined veiled promise and threat. 

*

The matter occupied my thoughts but little over the next few days; I had other concerns.  
Glorfindel’s patrol was still not returned, and others besides myself were growing anxious.

‘Turgon chafes,’ Egalmoth confided to me after practice. ‘He would send out another patrol, but seeking for the first might attract too much attention to the pass. But the watch is doubled, and the healers are on high alert.’

‘It must be a worry,’ I said. ‘It is not easy, being a king in these times, and to be our king must be worse.’

‘It’s possible they’ve had to go around and about to throw off pursuit,’ Rog said. ‘Happened to me once. Thirty leagues it was before we could shake them, and then we doubled and redoubled ourselves to be certain, four months overdue we were. There is too much at stake, and Glorfindel knows it. Give him another two weeks before you worry, Egalmoth.’

Which was fine for him to say, but Egalmoth was not in love with Glorfindel. My spine crawled with worry at the thought of Glorfindel, out for another month or more.

Not knowing what else to do, I went to the swans. Since the eagles were acknowledged Lord Manwë’s birds, I was certain that the flights of swans, passing over, would be seen as nothing but the natural movements of the creatures, and I had some idea of training them, perhaps, so that I could send them to seek Glorfindel, although what they would do if they found him, I had not thought. But it passed the time for me, an hour each morning, talking to the birds, feeding them, telling them Glorfindel was late, and we were all concerned.

‘So, my friends, fly out, and if you see him, bring me word, or give him word he is looked for,’ I would say. ‘When you go, look beneath you for the gold of his hair.’

The gold of his hair. 

The sky was as blue, the swans as white, as ever, but without the glint of sunlight, the colours were muted, drab, missing the gold.

*

‘Why don’t you ever want to meet me in the mornings?’ Malriniel asked. ‘If I am only ever an evening guest, your mother will never see me as more than that, a guest, rather than a friend of the family.’

‘I have work,’ I replied. ‘There is practice, and my duty hours, and there are horses to exercise, and other tasks to fill my morning hours.’ I did not mention the swans, they were too private, too… too Glorfindel. I did not see it as keeping a secret from her, just nothing to concern her.

Of course, if things developed, it might be different, I may have to tell her about my feelings for him.

But not yet. Not for a long while yet, especially while I did not know where he was, or what was happening with him.

‘Well, I cannot always come to your evening affairs,’ she said with a toss of her gilded head. ‘So do not look for me every time you ask.’

So I did not look for her. But that night, she was there, and the next. Captain Brechon, too, was in attendance, polite to my mother, not over-familiar, sharing his time amongst all the guests, including Malriniel. I did not take much notice; he had spoken to her in the course of his visits before, and she did not seem to mind.

As yet I had not had chance to promote him to King Turgon’s notice; as our lord was still worried about the missing company, it seemed an impertinence to bother him with what he would see as a minor matter. I resolved to say so to Brechon, more tactfully, perhaps, but to assure him his restraint had been noticed.

The evening played out. Malriniel excused herself early; I walked her to the gates, but she would not let me escort her home.

‘No, I have a little headache, the air will help, and I will be fine.’

‘At least let me send…’

‘No! I mean, thank you, Ecthelion, but no. Go back in to your guests, your family. I will see you another time, goodnight. Goodnight.’

I thought perhaps she had sounded a little abrupt, perhaps annoyed, but I bowed and allowed her to continue alone.

Returning to the party, I was accosted by Sídhneth and allowed her to take refuge by my side; Mother had invited three new potential suitors, and none of them, of course, suited my sister very much.

‘So you must bear me company, my brother, and tell me how it runs for you and Malriniel?’ 

‘I hardly know,’ I said. ‘I think she is pleasant, and that we might become closer, and then she complains and says she can’t visit in the evenings, but she does not say why… and then turns up anyway… and now she will not let me walk her home; I can’t quite understand.’

‘Well, if you have any thoughts of her as a potential wife, perhaps you should mention it; you really don’t believe like a suitor, you know.’ She grimaced as our mother looked around, a young captain at her side. ‘And I should know!’

‘Come with me, then; I need to look for Captain Brechon, I almost promised I would mention him favourably to Turgon and I wish to reassure him I’ve not forgotten…’

But when I spotted the captain, he was already taking leave, and by the time I got to the outer doors, he’d run down the steps and off into the night.  
 


	4. Turgon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interview with the king leaves Ecthelion with much to consider...
> 
> And Glorfindel's patrol does not return when expected

As chance had it, I found myself speaking of Brechon the next day, and it was not I who brought up his name, but Turgon himself. We’d had a meeting, one of those formal things where the heads of Houses gathered to report; not everyone was present, for, of course, some were serving away. But after, as we prepared to leave, Turgon hailed me.

‘A moment more of your time, Ecthelion of the Fountain.’

‘Of course, Sire.’

As the room emptied, I followed the king into a private chamber behind. He poured wine for us both.

‘Sit you, Ecthelion.’

I bowed, and did as instructed, waiting for Turgon to gather his thoughts. When he spoke, it was not on a topic I had expected.

‘Captain Brechon’s at your House often, is he not?’  


‘Yes, my king.’

‘Who invites him?’

‘…Sire?’

‘It is not a difficult question, surely. Yet he is of the House of the Harp, and not likely to come to your notice in general. So I wondered.’

Turgon was right, of course; it was not a hard question… but when I thought, I could not quite pin down when first Brechon began attending my mother’s events…

‘It is an interesting question, Sire. I had assumed him part of my mother’s campaign to marry off my three sisters…’

‘Yet he is hardly a fit match, is he? And rumour has it he’s been more than politely attentive to Lady Rivorndis…’

‘On that topic, I have suggested his attentions could be misconstrued, he assured me he had meant no harm… Sire, I am at a loss; it seems to me now that he simply appeared at the house, and has kept coming.’

‘I wonder if, were you to mention this, your mother might say she thought you had invited him... and at the same time, Ecthelion, you are bringing forward an elleth from the Eastern Quarter, although common report sets her home firmly in the Undercity…’

‘It is possible that Lady Malriniel may have caused me to be less alert than I should be, Sire, at the social gatherings… in herself, she is pleasant and…’

‘…and unexceptional. Hardly an ideal match for Lord Ecthelion of the Fountain, but it might seem to Lady Rivorndis that you choose her simply to reject more appropriate ladies. Tell me frankly, why?’

‘I…’ I ducked my head away. There was that in Turgon’s gaze that demanded truth. ‘I would take a person of my own choosing to be my fëa-mate, and the one I would have is not on my mother’s lists for me.’

‘But the one you would have is not Lady Malriniel either, I wager.’

‘Sire?’

Turgon’s expression was as neutral as he could make it, but there was something in his manner that made him seem awkward, that he found this difficult.

‘Of late you have become better friends with one you have known for centuries; I would hazard a guess the both of you are closer than is usual in a friendship.’

‘It is forbidden, Sire, for two ellyn to engage in such behaviour…’

‘…for if it were not, we would be knee deep in males abandoning their traditional roles and partnering the elves they stand beside in battle and in training. This is a safe place, Ecthelion, to discuss such matters, and it has occurred to me that you may have thought that marrying an elf from the Undercity, a lady who might be grateful to be out of the place might also turn a blind eye to her husband’s external adventures…’

I swallowed. Put like that, my thoughts about Lady Malriniel seemed base and wrong.

‘I am, Sire, very fond of a certain friend,’ I admitted. ‘Although, within these walls, there is nothing to be done about it. I hope that my concern for his well-being has not drawn attention, I would not wish to embroil him in any scandal…’

‘Such as the scandal almost brought upon you at that picnic party of your mother’s?’ Turgon gave a wry smile. ‘Naturally, I cannot publicly countenance this closer friendship, which is one reason I sent you both away… to test you, perhaps. To keep you both safe.’ 

The king sighed and drained his wine cup, waved the empty goblet as he set it down.

‘And instead, I seem to have sent him into danger. Well. These several topics, wide as they may seem, are connected. There are tales of spies, and I have wondered about Brechon for some time… better to have him where I can see him, of course, and so I will be glad if his invitations to your home do not stop. Although we seem to have established there have been no such invitations. I might point out, although it seems churlish of me, that your acquaintanceship with Lady Malriniel happened when she arrived at my home uninvited one night, and threw herself at your mercy rather…’

‘You think she is connected with spying?’

‘Not necessarily. It is more that I wish to warn you. Those who have little, when their fortunes change, become more jealous lest they lose their advantages again. If you were to marry her, you may find her less amenable than you hope.’

I bowed my head in acknowledgement, and finished my wine. It seemed to be time to leave.

‘Ecthelion…’

‘My king?’

‘Let us hope that we will not always be so closed a society. Now go, and if word comes about the patrol, I will see that you hear it.’

*

But still Glorfindel did not come, and did not come.

One day, there was a flurry about the Market Place, and those there witnessed three of the barracks healers rushing along the road to the Gate. But news came only slowly, and then it was not of good; two of Glorfindel’s troop had got in, injured and exhausted, with tales of ambush and separation.

‘Four dead that they saw, almost half taken, and what became of Glorfindel they did not know,’ Rog told me when we gathered for practice in the forenoon of the next day. ‘He and a small part of the company had headed south to investigate signs in the undergrowth. So either Glorfindel sprang a trap early, and was caught before the rest, or…’

Egalmoth, who was also with us, shook his head. The unspoken ‘or’ did not bear vocalising, lest it thus become real. But that was it, caught or dead, because why else had he not returned to the rest of his patrol? Sometimes, it was true, those captured by the enemy managed to escape again, but… it was not often to their advantage.

That night we’d been invited to Tuor and Idril’s House, a party for some reason or other, and the time passed pleasantly enough, all things considered. Since our first meeting, when Tuor had arrived at the Great Gate and was revealed to me as having the favour of Lord Ulmo, we had learned to respect, and then to like each other as individuals. I spent an hour with their child, showing him how to make and play reed pipes – to be honest, I wondered whether the noise might irritate his parents – yet it seemed at the time a kindness to the child, if not to them. He had a habit, this little one, of taking to a person, and hanging on their tails, like it or not… but, well, it kept my hands busy and me out of mischief.

What it did not, could not do was stop me worrying about Glorfindel.

Later, I saw my mother and sisters into the conveyance, and sent them off home.

‘But, Ecthelion…’ my mother protested.

‘There is something I need to do,’ I said. ‘I will not be long.’

I had to go to the swans.

It was dark, a bright moon glistening and shaming the stars, and the reflections on the lake made silver and ebony ripples. The swans were sleepy, tucked up bundles of feathers, looking strange and unlovely without their grace of movement.

‘Where is Glorfindel?’ I asked. ‘Is he dead?’

But though I feared it, I did not feel it. Somehow, I could not believe in his death, not without further information; I had to have more than just hearsay and supposition before I despaired.

(‘Better dead than caught,’ he’d said to me once. I was unsure, held up the example of some who had survived capture. ‘Really? Have you seen them?’ he’d scoffed. ‘They sound cheerful, and laughs well, but have you seen their eyes? They are deader than a ten-day corpse… No, don’t let me survive capture, Ecthelion, I wouldn’t want to live after it. Not with what can happen. I’ve heard… stories…’)

We’d all heard the stories. 

So I found no comfort from the swans, and I think they would have preferred me to leave them in peace. Sighing, I wandered on through the night, not sure where I was going, really, just walking, walking out my anxiety.

After about an hour I realised I’d passed through the Great Market and was heading towards the Eastern Quarter; subconsciously or consciously, I was now on the same paths that led to the point where Malriniel always made me part from her. Ahead, shadowed and dark, loomed the alcoves where the denizens of the Night Market plied their various trades. 

About to turn back, I heard a soft sound, a door closing, and stepped into the shadows in time to see Captain Brechon leaving one of the dark alcoves. He turned up the collar of his coat, settled his shoulders, and wore the sort of smirk you’d see on the face of one who had been up to something. Cocky, full of himself.

I let him pass, then went towards the doorway whence he’d emerged, ignoring the voices that called out soft, sweet promises that left me cold. As I approached, it opened, and a figure emerged, turning in the direction Malriniel and I usually took, a figure in a pink shawl and with blonde hair that shone in the moonlight like weak brass. I may have exhaled my shock too loudly, for the figure paused.

‘Brechon?’ a familiar voice called. ‘Is that you…?’ A gasp, and the figure turned. ‘Who is there…? Come forth and show yourself!’

I reeled back. Malriniel! What was she doing here?

‘I know there’s someone!’ she said, standing her ground. ‘I’ll call the others…’

Taking a breath, I stepped out.

‘Ecthelion! What are you doing here?’

I shook my head.

‘I could ask you the same thing. This… Night Market… I thought we walked through to get to your home, not that you lived here!’

‘I don’t!’ she snapped back. ‘I only work here. What?’ she demanded, and I imagine my face showed the shock I was feeling. ‘What, because the great Lord Ecthelion sees fit to allow me to eat at his table and drink of his wine a few nights each week, I am to starve the rest of the time? What of my mother, my sisters? Or does Ecthelion not understand that we ellith cannot always be simply decorative items, to be measured up as fit for marriage and motherhood? Or…’

‘Stop!’ I said. ‘Malriniel, stop. No, I didn’t know. Any of this. I… I would have helped…’

‘And you think I want your help, or need it? Go home, Ecthelion.’

‘I would have married you!’ I blurted out.

‘Would you?’ she asked, frowning. ‘Or would you have talked about it to your mother or your sister, and then changed your mind and… paid me off to be quiet and leave you alone? Or even if you had, did you not think that if you were going to ask a girl, even one such as me, something like that, you could at least show you liked her, were interested in what she did when she wasn’t hanging on your arm…’

‘I’m beginning to grasp the fundamentals of your life outside of my companionship,’ I said. ‘But that aside…’

‘Go home, Ecthelion!’ she said, actually stamping her foot at me. ‘Go away, go home, go home!’

*

Home.

The doorkeeper was waiting up, murmured something about my mother having said I would not be long. His tone was vaguely disapproving, but I shook my head at him.

‘Goodnight. I’m grateful the door wasn’t locked against me.’

‘Goodnight, my lord,’ he said. ‘And tread light – your mother’s still up.’

Yes. However soft I trod on the stairs, still she would always hear, and I had not been long in my room before she entered, talking as she did so.

‘I don’t know what you were thinking, leaving us like that, and then to disappear for half the night, Ecthelion, you should know better… anything could have happened…’

‘It’s Gondolin, Mother, not the Helcaraxë,’ I said, too tired and heartsick to be tactful. ‘Your escort was well armed, and I am quite able to protect myself. I needed to walk. To think.’

‘Oh, I see. And just what conclusions has all this walking and thinking led to? That you need to spend more time at home, or to get to bed at a reasonable hour?’

‘I don’t think Lady Malriniel is quite suited to life in our House,’ I said.’

‘Well!’ My mother drew herself up, gave a shake of her hair. ‘It’s about time! And just what has led you to this conclusion? Not that I am not delighted, of course, the girl is the worst sort of person, and who knows what company she keeps when she’s not here…?’

‘Captain Brechon, for one,’ I said. ‘I saw them together by chance. It… there was nothing I can say was wrong with the meeting, but nor was it right.’

‘Brechon! I might have known you would blame him!’

I shook my head. ‘I am not, I am simply… can you not be glad Malriniel is no longer important to me, and accept the rest?’ And yet I had been thinking, that it was shortly after Captain Brechon started coming to the house, that I met Lady Malriniel… I had never introduced them, but they had always talked together…. ‘It’s late, Mother. We can talk about this tomorrow, if we must. But for tonight, let me be!’

*

Let me be. Well, my mother gathered herself and sniffed at me, and left the room, but my thoughts would not let me be. 

I… yes, it had hurt to realise that my choice of Malriniel had been for the wrong reasons, that my plans for her, however good they might seem to me, were not necessarily a good thing for her. 

That Malriniel had revealed herself as one who… and it was not that I minded, but… well… 

No, I did, I did mind. I minded that anyone in Gondolin should have to resort to such measures to survive, and I minded that there were those who would take advantage of their situation to encourage them to continue. And I minded more because, really, what was the difference between those who preyed on the Night Marketeers and me? I would have given Malriniel everything one needed to live… except my love… and while I would have given her a comfortable home forever, still, it would have been lonely for her.

Perhaps a part of my outrage was not because of what she did to feed herself, but that she had continued doing it even while I was attempting to court her… and I was the more outraged because I knew that really, I was the most wrong of either of us, and that I could not continue with my plans, but now the reason I could not was not because I had realised how wrong it would be for her, but that I had seen her revealed first.

Which brought me to the how of it; Brechon, leaving her place of work… that they knew each other, that he had been trying to grow close to my mother as Malriniel had been allowing me to draw close to her… except…

Except Turgon had drawn my attention to the fact that it had been Malriniel brought herself to my notice, not that I had just found her myself… so perhaps it was not my fault, perhaps she had targeted me for some reason…

Somehow, that thought was worse than all the others, that I may have been her dupe.

*

The next few days were hard. My mother did, at least, refrain from expressing her delight in the lack of Malriniel’s presence at our house, and Sídhneth, when she heard the tale, was sympathetic, but did not quite understand why I felt so badly about my own intentions. 

‘It is a shame, but, brother, perhaps it is a good thing to find this out now, when she was unaware of your hopes,’ she said. ‘But you know it would not really have been a good idea.’

She was right, of course, but it did not help me much. Nor did the fact that Captain Brechon appeared, as if he’d been invited, at the next picnic my mother held, and rather than have him know I was aware of any suspicion against him, I had to behave towards him as if I had never seen him leaving Malriniel’s alcove, nor heard King Turgon’s doubts about him. In fact, Brechon wandered over towards me with a question in his eyes, and I knew he was wondering whether or not I had fulfilled my promise about his advancement.

‘You may well be wondering,’ I began when he greeted me, ‘whether or not I have spoken to our king on your behalf; particularly as I have noticed the efforts you have made. Well, I have mentioned you as one who bears watching, and now…’

‘Now all I can do is wait,’ he said. ‘I thank you for your words, and I think I have found another way to serve, as you suggested. But even so, there are not many openings for advancement, in Gondolin, unless someone either falls into error, or falls in battle, or goes out on sortie but does not return.’ 

He nodded and moved on, his words bringing back to me the grasping fear I had that Glorfindel would be one of those lost outside the walls…

‘…You will, will you not?’ someone said.

My mind had been wandering. I found myself looking at my mother and Lady Glingaerneth.

‘Ah…’

‘Sing with us? At Tarin Austa?’

The Festival of the Gates of Summer. It has been called other names, of course, but this was how we styled it, amongst ourselves, in Gondolin. I had to admit, I’d not given the matter much thought, but now I realised the festival was but a month away.

‘I’ve been busy with other matters, my lady,’ I said, ‘and have not yet given thought to the festival. I shall sing, certainly, to greet the dawn, but as to where precisely I will stand…’ 

I gave a smile and a shrug, and my mother glared at me.

‘It is very kind of Lady Glingaernaeth to ask, Ecthelion,’ she said.

‘Indeed, and I am honoured. But I do not yet know what my duty rota will be for that time.’

*

There was, in fact, plenty to occupy my thoughts and my time and I wished for a proper, settled posting that would take me away from the parties and the flutter of my mother and her guests… I found I missed Malriniel more than I cared to admit, and my spirits were low, and lower, and I found myself sometimes drinking more, alone, than I was used to do. 

Vaguely, I thought it helped.

Came news, with the scudding of the late spring rains, the bodies of two of Glorfindel’s troop had been found, dead, despoiled, profaned. They had been his lieutenants.

‘They did not die easily,’ Turgon said, addressing us at a hastily-gathered convening of Houses. ‘They died far from our borders, on a lesser trail. Too much time has passed to be able to say more, but… we are searching the area for other… signs.’

‘Activity in the region, my lord,’ Egalmoth asked. ‘Has it ceased?’

‘It would seem so,’ Turgon admitted. ‘And yet these deaths, the delay in Glorfindel’s return… perhaps not yet. I think the time is come when we must give him up as lost. A pity; Glorfindel was more than just one elf; he was one of our best, bravest, boldest, and we will have to strive so much harder without him.’

Others besides me bowed their heads at use of the word ‘was’, not ‘is’. Glorfindel, then, gone, dead, possibly , his body …damaged, as his lieutenants had been, no, it did not bear thinking of… 

‘Walking back my way?’ Rog asked Egalmoth and he shook his head.

‘Want to go to the Great Market. Takes me past your place, Ecthelion. Mind some company?’

‘That’s a good notion,’ Rog said. ‘Might tag along, yes?’

I swallowed, looked at my friends, saw only sympathy and understanding there, hidden behind the gruff necessity of pretending not to know.

‘You’re welcome,’ I said with a shrug. ‘Would ask you in for a cup of wine, but my mother’d just try to marry you off to some of my sisters…’

This drew a laugh and a grin, and earned me a buffeting on the shoulder that was gentler than it looked; I had kind friends.

*

But their kindness wasn’t enough, being alone with Sídhneth and telling her about Glorfindel, that was not enough, and the sorrow and loss built and built in me. Around the middle of the day, I shut myself up with a bottle of strong spirits, sent the servant for wine, and steadily drank myself into the closest thing to oblivion I could manage.

A knock at my door, asking if I were coming down for dinner; I ignored it, but shortly after called a servant for more wine. Outside, the sky darkened, and I looked out, drinking and staring at the sky.

Glorfindel.

What would I do without him, what would Gondolin do?

‘Ecthelion!’

My mother’s voice, stern, outside, as she rapped on the door and found her way in. 

‘Ecthelion, I do not know what you think you are doing, but… drinking? You have been drinking, up here, alone? What is this, why are you behaving so badly?’

She ran out of breath and I moved towards her, maybe slightly unsteady on my feet. She backed away and laced her fingers in front of her body.

‘Me?’ I protested. ‘When every other night I watch you mauling one or other of the captains, the young ones, while you ignore us, my sisters, me, unless you’re trying to push us towards someone you want to marry us… it’s as if you’re trying to get rid of us, as if we’re just a burden to you…’

I moved towards her as I spoke, spread my arms knowing I’d said too much, wanting to apologise and have her hold me as a mother would hold her son, but…

‘Stay back, you reek of spirits!’ she said, turning her head away from me. ‘I don’t know what you’re so upset about, it’s not as if That Female…’

‘Not her,’ I said. ‘Glorfindel. Turgon says he’s dead.’

‘Well, that’s no reason for all this! It’s not as if he’s your special person, and besides, I have told you, Ecthelion…’

‘How do you know?’ I demanded. ‘What makes you think you can judge?’

She stiffened her upper body, laced her fingers again.

‘Your father was my One,’ she said. ‘When he died, so did the better part of me. But I had to keep going, your sisters needed me, and I had a duty to do my best for you. I had to be stern to be strong. If Glorfindel were your soul’s mate, you would know, Ecthelion. You would not just be sad and drunk, you would be feeling as if your heart had been ripped from you, you, even you, would be on your knees with weeping. You are grieving, and so I make allowances. But he did not care about you as much as you think, and what you think now is love… you would know it if were, his death would almost destroy you.’

‘Mother…’ I reached out my hand, but I stumbled, and she may have thought I was trying to grab her, for she swept out of the room, her voice only coming back to me.

‘Do not do this to yourself, Ecthelion, or to us. There is no need. This cannot have been love.’

*

But she was wrong, she was so wrong, she had to be wrong!

I could not stay, not for a moment longer. Hurrying from my room, grabbing a dark coat to hide me from the night, I fled the house, running through the dark spaces of Gondolin until I finally reached the lake.


	5. Swans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion despairs...

I had to go to the swans; they were the nearest I could be to Glorfindel at that moment, and I needed so to be with him...

The creatures were unhappy to be disturbed, and made their strange sad noises as I moved amongst them. Head after sleepy head raised, lifted on long necks, complained softly at me.

‘Where is he?’ I asked, ‘is he dead? Does he live?’

But they had no answer and I could not bear it; I pushed through them and found myself suddenly in the water, up to my knees, the cold wet flooding in over the tops of my boots, seeping through my leggings, reaching for me with chill, trickling sympathy.

I could not live, not without Glorfindel. Nor could I fade, it was not in me to surrender so. But this much I could do, I could wade out into the lake, keep wading, let the waters close over my head, and then who would know what had become of me? 

Who, really, would care?

And after all, why not? They say it is a kind death – kinder than that met by the guards who were with my beloved Glorfindel, and I had always loved the water…

Drunk as I was, the logic of this seemed profoundly moving, my death in the lake somehow had a rightness to it, so I began walking, wading, my coat soaking up the burden of water and pulling at me, my feet growing numb and sluggish so that I stumbled, tripped, fell, and rolled so I was on my back, the waters surrounding, enfolding, chilling, reaching my hips, my shoulders, tugging at my hair. I stopped struggling for balance, lay still as the water seeped up.

Overhead the sky was blue-black, the stars diamond white, so beautiful, and shadows moved, grew bigger and transforming into shapes I knew; swans, coming in to land.

Before my face became submerged, I heard them calling, a familiar sequence, five notes, a clarion call, repeated, repeated… the waters closed over my face, the sky became different, seen through the veil of the lake… I paused in deciding on the right moment to breathe in my death, and then…

Waited.

A five-note sequence, the key notes from my tune, my music…

How could they have known, how learned it, where from? As far as I knew, only twice had I played it, only once could the swans have heard…

Suddenly I lost interest in surrendering to the water and had to remind myself not to breathe.

What if the swans had found Glorfindel? 

What if he was not dead?

What if…?

What if the reason I had not felt as if his death would destroy me was not because he was not my One, but that he was not, actually, dead…?

What if dying, right now, in this lake, was actually a bad idea after all?

I strove to surface.

*

I emerged, shivering and shaking from the shock and the fear and the alcohol I’d consumed, struggling my way towards the bank. The swans surrounded me, calling their five-note chant, half a dozen of them, pushing close, allowing me to rest my arms over their strong white backs, supporting me to the shallows. As my senses restored themselves, I saw that each had a strip of fabric around its neck, tied close, not tight, the same red as the lining of Glorfindel’s cloak.

Making landfall, I stumbled out to dry land where I collapsed, unable to gather the energy to go further, too shocked and stunned to know what else to do. The swans surrounded me, not with menace, but with warm, soft feathers and snaking necks enfolding, and I lost myself there to sleep or unconsciousness.

*

Noises disturbed me, the sound of irritated swans complaining. The patches of warmth around my body removed themselves and I sat up and blinked. Across the plain, two figures were striding, heading for the lake. They looked familiar, but, disoriented as I was, it was only when I staggered to my feet and they saw me, calling out my name, that I recognised them; Rog and Egalmoth.

‘Ecthelion? Ecthelion, are you well? Are you hurt?’

They broke into a run as I stared around me, down at myself, my muddied coat and filthy garments, decorated here and there with downy feathers and the occasional smear of unpleasantness from the swans.

‘I am…’ I remembered the night, the red fabric on the swans, Glorfindel-not-dead. ‘I have to see Turgon immediately, I…’

‘Not immediately, you don’t!’ Egalmoth said. ‘You may be unaware, but you look as if you’ve been half-drowned and then tarred and feathered!’

‘Well, something and feathered…’ Rog amended. ‘Your sister sent for us. You left after a row with Rivorndis and they’re worried…’

‘Yes, I… But hear me. I think Glorfindel might be alive, still…’

My two friends exchanged glances over my head. Rog took off his jacket while Egalmoth pulled my wet coat from my shoulders.

‘Come on, mellon-nin, back to my place for a bit of a tidy up, eh?’ Rog said as he draped his jacket over my shoulders. ‘It’s nearest. Then you can tell us what’s going on, if you like.  
We’ll send word to your mother…’

‘And bespeak a change of clothes for me?’ I said. ‘Thank you, Rog. I know it sounds strange, but I mean it. Glorfindel, I don’t think he’s dead…’

‘Can be hard to let them go,’ Rog said, nodding and beginning to steer me away from the lake. ‘But you’ve got friends, help you though it.’

‘The healers can help, maybe,’ Egalmoth suggested. ‘But your place first is a good idea, Rog.  
Can’t have anyone seeing poor Ecthelion like this…’

‘What?’ I halted. ‘I am not “poor Ecthelion”! If you would just listen to me…’

Again the exchange of glances.

‘All right,’ Egalmoth said, very much humouring me. ‘Tell us, then.’

‘I was here last night when some swans landed on the lake. They were calling out a sequence of notes I’d played for Glorfindel, and… yes, very well, that sounds unlikely… but around the neck of several was a thin strip of fabric, from Glorfindel’s cloak. If you go back to the lake, you can probably see them, I only took the cloth from one of them…’

‘Where is it, then?’

‘Coat pocket, I think,’ I said.

Egalmoth fumbled in the pockets of my wet coat, drew out a thin strip of scarlet silk.

‘Well…!’

‘So you see, I need to talk to Turgon!’

‘Think you might be right,’ Rog said. ‘But not wearing mud and slime.’

*

In less than two hours, I was standing in Turgon’s private meeting room, Rog and Egalmoth with me. I’d washed, changed into fresh clothes sent from home, written a note to Sídhneth saying I was well and would be back later, and another begging the forgiveness of my mother. My kind friends had fed me and although I still felt somewhat out of sorts, I was able to bow to my king and speak clearly and concisely.

‘So, Sire, it is my belief that these signs – the swan’s call, and their silk collars – are intimations that Glorfindel is alive, and possibly in need of assistance.’

‘Dare I ask what you were doing, at the lake, at night…? No, no matter. Very well. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Other than watch the swans and perhaps follow them, I do not see how we can locate Glorfindel, but I will consider the matter. As for you, Ecthelion, go home, rest. Someone will bring you news, if news there be.’  
 


	6. Returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel is sought...

Glorfindel was brought in three days later, strapped to his horse and swearing; an ambush outside the boundaries, two thirds of his company slain or taken, himself one of the worst wounded, only one other elf surviving with him, arriving close to death. 

I was on duty at the time, a boundary patrol that kept me busy until late evening. Rog met me at the gate to share the news as soon as I stood my troop down.

‘Glorfindel’s back, he’s taken a poisoned arrow to the leg. Came in just before noon, he’s been with the healers and they say no lasting harm. He’s in a bad way, but the other fellow’s worse. Typical Glorfindel, he wouldn’t leave this fellow alone or he might have been found sooner. He can have visitors, want to come with me? Or do you want to go home first?’

‘Home can wait,’ I said, for of course I wanted to see Glorfindel. ‘I’ll come at once.’

Until the moment that I saw him for myself, I dared not let myself believe. On the way, Rog told me more of the story; Turgon had sent Tuor out, and following the flight of several swans, passed not far from where the first survivors of the patrol had been found. From there he turned off, on a whim, almost, down a path that seemed to lead nowhere. There, sheltering under a makeshift hide of such branches and ferns as they’d been able to gather around themselves, Tuor found Glorfindel and the other injured elf.

‘Good thing you were at the lake last night,’ Rog said. ‘Another few days and one at least of them wouldn’t have survived.’

*

Glorfindel was reclining in an untidy bed at the healer’s hall nearest his House enclave. Propped on pillows, he looked pale and feverish, the gold of his hair darkened by perspiration and his eyes closed; the sight alarmed me, it was like looking at him in death. But at sound of the door he swallowed and opened his eyes to look and see who had come to see him. He could be forgiven for peering across the room; the light was dim, the chamber lit only by soft lamps and lanterns.

‘Rog.’ He managed a weak smile, his voice a drawl, an echo of his usual tones. ‘And who’s this you’ve brought? Thel, is it you?’

‘It is indeed, my friend.’ I hastened over to his bedside and reached out. Behind me, Rog cleared his throat, and I restrained myself, turning my aborted gesture into an attempt to fluff Findel’s pillows. ‘I hear you have been having adventures?’

‘Ah, just the odd skirmish here and there…’ He tried to grin, but his face refused. ‘Stars, Thel,’ he added quietly. ‘I lost good fellows to that horde, and I can’t…’

There was a chair near the bed, and I sat in it. A glance at Rog, and he nodded, backed out of the room and closed the door. As soon as he’d gone, Findel grasped my hand, held tight.

‘They tell me I was fortunate,’ he said. ‘I’m recovering, they say, I won’t have any lingering effects from the poison… but the chap I came in with, he’ll lose an arm, at least, if he’s to survive, but…’

‘I’m glad to hear you will be well, but… I am sorry to hear about your companion, and the others; it’s terrible, losing people. I’m sure you know it wasn’t your fault, that you did everything you could, because I know it, I know you, Findel, enough to know that.’

He turned his face away and swallowed. I think he was crying, but I pretended not to see. His hand clutched at mine, and I covered his fingers with my other hand.

‘The poisons hurt us in so many ways,’ I murmured, repeating the wisdom of the training sergeants. ‘Not just the pain and the blood and the nightmares, but the mood-changes. It will pass.’

‘So they tell me.’ He turned back again, in command of himself again. ‘It’s good to see you, Thel. You said I’d been having adventures, I hear you’ve had a few of your own…?’

His grasp lessened, and so I removed my hand and sat back in my chair.

‘Not really. It was all quiet at the Great Gate, just a scout or two passing, as they do…’ 

I broke off. He was shaking his head at me. ‘I meant after you came back from duty.’

‘Mother’s been hauling me around her parties. I made a friend, I suppose that’s what you mean.’

‘An elleth.’

‘Yes, that’s right. From the Undercity.’ I lowered my voice. ‘Mother hated her on sight, of course.’

This made him laugh, but it turned into a cough and a wheeze and he struggled, trying to sit up. I put my shoulder under his and helped him.

‘So weak still, Thel! With all this, have you been to our swans? You sent them? Saw them overhead sometimes, tried to sing your song to them… You did send them, didn’t you? Tell me you did, at the end there, I thought I was imagining things…’

‘I have.’ I nodded. ‘They hadn’t quite forgotten me while I was on duty, and I take care to talk to them about you. I asked them to look for you, but I didn’t think they would find you…’

‘The swans… if you hadn’t sent them Thel… you went every day?’

‘I couldn’t go every day,’ I said. ‘Every other day, at least. And not because I have all these parties to get to, not because of the elleth, there was work.' 

‘This elleth, though... the thought of you and... I don't understand, I thought you liked...' He broke off, remembering that even here it was unwise to talk too freely. 'Someone else. And, I can understand if your mother's been pestering, but it doesn't make sense to me...'

The hurt in his voice was distressing.

'Rest easy,' I told him. 'It's over between us.'

‘...oh. Sorry, Thel. If you liked her. But I thought you liked me? So why would you take up with her to begin with?’

I sighed.

‘To keep my mother quiet. And I had a foolish idea that if the lady was amenable, a marriage of convenience, leaving us free to… except, that wouldn’t have worked, you can’t marry someone knowing it’s to be unfaithful to them, and it wouldn’t have been fair to you, either, to hide behind an elleth, and… it would have sullied all our fëar, I think.’

‘You know something, Ecthelion? The thought of you with anyone else… it burns me, Thel, while I was lying there, on that hillside, I just wanted to be with you again. When all I could hear were the sounds of my troop screaming, I blocked it out with the memory of you, playing to the swans. You kept me alive, you were my reason to keep fighting, so I might see you once more, so that I could tell you I…’

There was a knock at the door and one of the healers entered, bearing a tray.

‘Lord Glorfindel needs his wounds tending,’ he said. ‘My lord may wait outside, if he wishes, but Lord Glorfindel will be tired soon.’

‘I’ll wait.’

Rog was outside, also waiting, and it minded me that Findel was his friend, too, so when the healer came out and glared at us, I gestured to the door.

‘You go in, Rog; if Findel needs to rest, you haven’t had time to talk yet.’

‘That’s good of you. Not that there’s much to say. It’s hard, seeing a warrior like him laid down.’

When Rog came out a few minutes later, he shrugged at me.

‘Wants you to go back in,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at practice tomorrow, yes?’

‘Yes.’

Inside, Glorfindel was laid back, the bed tidier around him. He held himself less stiffly, as if some of his pain had eased. He smiled.

‘More drugs,’ he said, his voice slow and almost slurring. ‘Sleep soon. But you, Thel… stay? Sit over there, play for me. Play me the lake and the swans, will you?’

‘Of course, Findel.’

I took out my small pipes and began the melody. Today I worked in the swans looking over my shoulder, as if seeking him, the quite, soft mood of early morning, the ache of being alone there without him. I played the beauty of the dawn light rising across the silver water, I played the gold of the sun on Findel’s hair and the soft, white plumage of the swans, and when I looked up, I saw Findel’s eyes were open and shining in sleep, and a smile was on his face.

*

His recovery was not swift, not straightforward. The elf brought in with him did not survive the night, and Glorfindel took the news hard, as he did when he learned the details of the hard deaths of his other companions.

‘Told them all,’ he said. ‘When we knew we were followed. Get away, get safe, get home. Oh, stars! That’s bad. Their poor families, their poor fëar, what they must have suffered…’

‘Turgon says the reports show you could have done nothing else.’ Tuor had come on the king’s behalf, to break the news as easily as he could. ‘My patrol found the marks of many Orcs from several clans; this was a determined hunt, and that any of you came back is wondrous.’

‘What will the king do?’ Glorfindel asked, trying to prop himself up in the bed. ‘There has been quiet for so long outside, the level of attack was… unexpected. Not spies, it felt like they were trying their strength.’

‘The king is taking counsel,’ Tuor said. ‘For my part, I think we should look to security again, and beyond, to escape. We should try to find another sanctuary. But other voices counsel that we remain, and trust in our strength, and our walls.’

‘There is no escape from Gondolin,’ Glorfindel said, sighing. ‘And outside, there are many dangers. Getting our people away safely, how would we accomplish that? No, I see no hope, inside the mountains or outside.’ He glanced at me as he said it, and the blue of his eyes glittered like sapphires with silent tears. ‘We shall end up trapped here, like apples on a tree, ready to be plucked one by one, unable to save our people or ourselves at the last…’

‘You are still recovering,’ Tuor said. ‘It is known that at such times, hope is a rare companion. Besides, you have had sad news to bear. In a few days, you will feel less hopeless. I will leave you now; I have duty elsewhere. Our king sends his wishes for your healing, Glorfindel.’

Every day, though, Glorfindel recovered some of his strength. He had less pain and his eyes were less haunted. I visited as often as duty permitted, sometimes twice in one day, morning and evening.

‘I want my swans,’ he said to me one morning. ‘And if you’re here, you’re not there…’

‘Ah.’ I smiled, and brought out a long, gleaming feather I’d had in safekeeping inside my tunic. ‘I was there early, and found this at the water’s edge. A gift from your friends, well, from one of them.’

He nodded and took the feather. ‘Play them for me, Thel. I love how every time, the story changes. I can’t get to them; bring them to me.’

So I played for him, softly, watching him sigh back onto the pillows and relax as I played the blue of the sky, the white of their feathers, the gold of the sunlight. I played the lift of wings, the enfolding of feathers, the sinuous necks stretching and bending, and felt I was part of his healing.

It was several days before he was pronounced well enough to leave, and I was there the evening before. 

‘It’s going to be hard,’ he said, his eyes sliding away and shining, as they did when he was more emotional than he liked. ‘Things being as they are, I can’t invite you to bear me company, not every day, not alone.’

‘Not ever alone, my friend, I think. I can bring Sídhneth.’ 

‘That’s a good idea. And, and Rog and Egalmoth, you can visit when they do, only… it’s hard, Thel. Home because I’m better, but not well enough yet to get out and about, not without help and sticks and can’t ride yet, and I still have these… moments of despair…’

‘It will come, in time. It’s only been a few days, and you bore your wounds how long in the wild?’

‘I honestly can’t remember. Well. Come tomorrow, then, bring your sister.’

*

Glorfindel was right to suggest I didn’t visit him too much at home; it would have been too easy to assume we were safe, private, to flaunt the rules… but in Gondolin, you could never be sure if someone was watching…

And Glorfindel wasn’t himself yet, besides.

Sídhneth and I presented ourselves in the early afternoon, and were shown in to a large, sparse sitting area on the ground floor; a bed had been brought in and was partially screened from the rest of the room, while two chairs and a sofa flanked a bright rug on the floor. On the sofa, Glorfindel was reclining, his head thrown back to reveal the long, strong line of his neck and throat, his shirt lacings looser than was commonly worn, his injured leg supported by cushions. He looked pale and his eyes had a fiery glitter to them. He smiled a welcome.

‘Hullo, Thel, Lady Sídhneth…’ His hand lifted, made a half gesture. ‘Come ‘nd sit. Good to see you, Thel, both.’

Sídhneth looked sideways at me as she seated herself; there was something in Findel’s voice that wasn’t quite right; almost as if he’d been drinking; yet I’d never seen Glorfindel in his cups, and this early in the day…

‘How are you, Findel?’ I asked. ‘I hope moving from the healers’ across to here wasn’t too taxing?’

‘Hm? No, no, didn’t do a thing… carried like a bundle of linens I was! Still. Here now.’ He grimaced. ‘They say I’ll be more able soon, that all the potions they’ve fed me to numb things will wear off in time. Just for the moment, though, I feel a little… unlike myself.’

‘That’s good news, at least,’ I said. ‘Probably worth feeling out of sorts for a time, if it helps with the pain.’

‘It gets into you, the poison, and the guilt, and one feeds on the other until it opens holes inside you, Thel, and it’s just… you almost want to do anything to stop it…’ He sighed. ‘Charming company, am I not?’

‘We are just glad to see you back safely,’ Sídhneth said. ‘But if you’re tired, if you’d rather we left you to yourself…’

‘No, my lady, I beg your pardon, I did not mean… I am glad to see you. Both of you are very welcome, you are friends I can relax with. It is much harder when Galdor or Penlod came to see me in the healers’ halls, you know what Galdor is like, Thel, hard as the iron-studded club on his pennant, can’t show any weakness there, and Penlod would just love something new to write about, how the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower weeps like a maiden at the first opportunity…’

‘We’ve all done it,’ I said. ‘At one time or other, there is not one of us that hasn’t wept at matters beyond our control. It will pass. Meanwhile, be kinder to yourself.’

He nodded and with an effort pulled himself up and supported himself on two sticks.

‘Just want to look out onto the gardens,’ he said. ‘I should be able to get outside tomorrow, they say, if I take my time.’ 

He lurched slightly and I leapt up, went to stand at his elbow, ready to assist if needed.

‘I’m all right,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘But stay, if you like.’

He managed to work his way across to the window and looked out over the garden. Trees and flowerbeds, mostly of golden leaf or bloom, surrounded a circular fountain which plumed water up in soft sprays glittering. Paths wove through the flowers, meandered past stone benches, circled the fountain.

‘Beautiful, Thel,’ he said softly. ‘Makes me think of you, the diamonds in the water… oh, stars, Thel, I missed you so much, I was so afraid I wouldn’t see you again, I…’ He swallowed, turned the full sapphire gleam of his bright blue eyes on me, bringing his face close enough to kiss. ‘I can think of no reason why I shouldn’t just push you down onto the bed there and ravish you, can you?’

His voice was changed, harder, desperate, and edged with a note of hysteria, yet how wonderful it would be to agree, to pull his face close, to…

Instead I smiled, and shook my head.

‘I can think of several, my friend,’ I made myself say. ‘To begin with, you are recovering from serious injury, and so must conserve your strength; it surely would be better if I did the ravishing…’

He focussed all his attention on me, a joyous smile beginning to spread across his face.

‘…but, unfortunately, a second reason is that such delights are forbidden and, for a third, and the most compelling reason of all, it would leave poor Sídhneth with nobody to talk to…’

‘What…?’ He pulled back, jerked his head around, and seemed to come back to himself, giving an embarrassed laugh. ‘Stars, Thel, what have I said? What did I nearly…? Can you forgive me?’

He turned awkwardly on his supporting sticks and tried to bow to my sister.

‘Lady Sídhneth, I am so very sorry, I am not in command of all I say, but please, I meant no offence…’

Sídhneth shook her head, laughing as she rose to run lightly across to us.

‘My dear Lord Glorfindel, think nothing of it! It is but the drugs your body needs to heal you; they have strange ways of working on the mind, some of them! Our mother is just the same, is she not, Ecthelion?’

‘Is she?’ I asked. ‘I did not know she took remedies…?’

‘For her grief,’ my sister said. ‘She does not like it known. Well. Come, Lord Glorfindel, sit down, let me sit with you. Tell me, have you given thought to Tarin Austa?’

‘No, it’s months away, is it not…? Oh, wait. I was months away, it must be soon, then?’

‘A little less than two weeks,’ Sídhneth said. ‘Mother’s having a party two nights before; I hope you’ll be well enough for it? And stand with us to sing in the summer, if you are free.’ 

She smiled at me with mischief in her eyes. ‘I am entitled to invite my friends, whatever Mother might think, after all. So if it slips her mind to include Glorfindel in her lists, well, he is my guest.’

‘It’s kind of you, my lady,’ he said. ‘I would like to, if I am well enough, if…’ He turned to look at me. ‘If I am free enough of the drugs, I would not like to do anything to offend, or to cause difficulties for my friends; I am aware that if my last… episode… had been witnessed by less kind friends, I might be on my way to Turgon’s palace for a reprimand, or worse, and I really cannot trust myself…’ 

Reaching out, he grasped my forearm in a grip that trembled with emotion.

‘Lord Ecthelion, my deepest apologies and my gratitude that you are so understanding of my current frailty. It was kind of you to visit, and I am so grateful, you are dear to me, your friendship is dear to me, but… perhaps it is best you do not come again, for a little while? I am sorry, but had one of the servants come in, as loyal as they are… well. Even the best of servants will talk.’

‘I understand, my friend,’ I said, clasping his hand as I extricated myself from his touch. ‘And I wish you nothing but a swift recovery and return to health. As soon as you are ready for visitors, send word, and I – or Sídhneth and I, if you prefer – will gladly attend you again.’

He nodded and looked away, eyes full of diamond tears. Sídhneth did what I could not – she leaned across and gently kissed his cheek.

‘Be well, Lord Glorfindel,’ she said softly. ‘And know that you are loved, in all your moods.’

‘Steady on, my lady!’ he said, with a sniffly laugh. ‘That kind of talk will make your mother think you want to marry me, and we both know that’s not a good idea!’

*

Of all the thoughts occupying me on the way home, there was only one matter I could openly discuss with Sídhneth.

‘What was that, about our mother?’ I asked. ‘Does she take potions? Why do I not know?’

‘Yes, of course she does!’ Sídhneth slapped at my arm, affectionately, of course. ‘She has for ages, since our father died. And apparently, she had done so before, after the Helcaraxë…’ Sídhneth had not been born then. ‘But all I hear of it, it was awful, so I don’t wonder… and after Father, she turned to the treatments again. There are newer ones now, of course, stronger, many just to alter mood and help one move beyond despair. They… they muffle her, I think. At least, I think this is so, I think it explains why she never holds us as most mothers do, why she stands away…’

‘Why she flirts with the young captains?’

‘You noticed that? Yes, I think it changes how she reacts, and, like poor Glorfindel, she can’t always help it.’ She laid her hand on my arm to halt me, and turned to look into my face. 

‘It’s a good thing I was there, and not Rog or Egalmoth, wasn’t it? I know you would still have stepped away, and I know they’re your friends, but… it would not have been as easy to pass it off for him, would it?’

‘Probably not.’ I sighed. ‘Thank you. I… yes, you know I care for him, and he me, I believe, but I would rather he express it while not under the influence of whatever potions the healers have given him…’

She linked arms with me, choosing to see this as amusing, giggling as she pulled me along again.

‘Of course he does! Silly brother! It’s just… not safe to talk of it.’ Her laughter faded. ‘I am sorry, but he’s right. You can’t see him again, not until he’s clear of these drugs. I know you missed him.’

‘Yes, I did.’ I took a breath, braced my shoulders. ‘But mostly, I was afraid for him. Now I know he is safe, at least. That must be my consolation.’  
 


	7. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion attempts to avoid preparations for a celebration ahead of the Festival of the Gates of Summer...

I tried not to pine.

As I had said to Sídhneth, at least Glorfindel was alive, safe. And, as I said to myself, at least I knew he cared for me.

But to be the only one not to visit, not to see him as he recovered… it was difficult, to say the least. Instead, I visited the lake, fed his flock of swans, told them how he was (for Rog and Egalmoth kept me informed). If Glorfindel had mentioned what had happened, neither of them spoke of it, but nor did they castigate me for my absence, merely talking around the topic in such a way as made me think perhaps he had said… something.

‘Seems these treatments of the healers make him a bit strange at times,’ Rog said. 

‘Well, he is not the first,’ Egalmoth replied. ‘But he wanted you to know, he’s in a way to be better.’

‘Yes, a pity your mother said you should keep Sídhneth away, it seemed harsh,’ Rog said. ‘Still. He’s riding again. Says he feels better for it. He’ll be back at practice before we know it.’

‘That’s good,’ I said. 

And it was, it really was, for if he could ride, then he would be able to get to the lake and meet with his swans again… but perhaps it was not good, for would he want to avoid me there, too? 

Still, I knew the hour of his usual going, so made sure the next day that I went early. I played for the swans, and this time I put my loneliness and love into the music, even though only the birds were there to hear it.

At least, so I thought. Yet as I left, I thought I saw a glint of gold in the trees, perhaps the outline of a horse, but I didn’t speak, and nobody called out, if anyone had been there.

*

Missing Glorfindel as I was, the fact that my mother was in full party-mood did nothing but irritate me. I kept clear of the house, instead arriving at the barracks to participate in a training session which ended up in a knockabout hand-to-hand contest amongst those leaders and captains of the Houses who happened to be present. I took on Tuor in a laughing wrestling match, bested him despite his Mannish tricks, watched Penlod lose with a shrug to Galdor, found myself called up to take the next bout and stood face-to-face with Captain Brechon, pushed forward by Lord Salgant in his stead.

The captain grinned.

‘As you see, I am not yet advanced,’ he said. ‘But as I have said before, there are few openings, alas, unless one steps over a dead elf to get there. Nevertheless, I hold no resentment, for you spoke up as you had promised and it is not your fault our king has not acted yet. Shall we play?’ 

‘Play’ was not quite the word for it. The presence of so many Lords of Houses, and perhaps a sense of ill-usage because King Turgon had not brought him forward, made Brechon keen to prove himself. If he could defeat me, of course, the feat would be repeated and improved upon with each telling, until by the time it reached the King’s ear, there would be no doubting Brechon’s abilities…

So, empty-hand fighting though it was, he entered the bout as if he were fighting for his life.

He kicked, and I caught at his ankle, pushed him away so he overbalanced and fell, but used his momentum to roll and, while his centre of balance was low, tried to sideswipe my; I sidestepped, blocked, ducked under a high punch and almost was not in time to miss the low blow, and so, and on, him turning and whirling, kicking and punching, not the wrestling bout I’d been expecting, but the sort of almost desperate moves one might make in battle, finding weapons gone and comrades vanished…

It went on, and on, blows landing occasionally know, stinging and smarting, hurting my pride if not my body. So far I had not attacked, being content to learn his style and turn away his energy against himself, for I felt sure that if I did respond, he would be injured, and cry foul on me…

But this grew tedious. 

He began to try harder to break my blocking moves, leapt onto a low wall to gain height on me. I saw a chance, took a step back and leapt after him, leading with my head. I caught him in the chest, pushing him backwards and as he windmilled his arms for balance, I clasped his wrist in a comrade’s gesture, laughing as I steadied him.

‘Bout to Ecthelion,’ Penlod called. ‘Well fought, the both of you!’

‘Well fought indeed,’ I said to my opponent, smiling. ‘I was tested today.’

His answering smile was full of fangs.

‘Ah, and I am just grateful you did not have that helm of yours in place – else I would have been spitted, would I not?’

I laughed, and he laughed, and clapped my shoulder, and I shook my head and accepted the congratulations of Tuor and left the grounds before I was called on to fight again.

*

Returning home in the hopes that all would have been done and the house calm again, I walked into chaos and tried hastily to back out of the entrance hall again; I had thought that, as most years, my mother’s celebration for the forthcoming Gates of Summer would be a simple supper for friends. On the night of Tarin Austa, we would hold silent vigil through until dawn when we would sing the summer in, so celebrations were usually held a few days ahead of the actual event itself.

Tonight, it seemed it would be a full, formal ball, where I was expected, not only to be present, but to lead her in the first dance and subsequently make nice with all her lady guests.

‘For it is time you thought properly about marriage, Ecthelion,’ she said, leaving off from ordering the servants about to accost me as I headed towards my rooms. ‘I know there was that unfortunate girl you took pity on… and I know you were concerned about your missing friend. But she is in your past, and your friend is returned, and it is time you should be thinking ahead, now, and not allowing yourself to mope.’

‘Thinking ahead, then, there is something I must do,’ I told her, seeing my chance to flee the house – a strategic retreat – lest I get caught up too much in the preparations. ‘And so I will see you later; I should not be above an hour or two…’

‘An hour! But, Ecthelion…!’

Escaping, I walked, just walked, heading nowhere, anywhere that wasn’t towards the House of the Golden Flower, and found myself accidentally following the roads and paths that led towards the Great Market.

I halted abruptly as the sights, smells and sounds assailed me. Brightly-coloured market stalls, multihued wares, the soft billows of fabrics and the layered fragrances of fruit and flowers, mingling with the people all about their business; it was so different, wearing its daylight face, with no voices whispering desperate promises from the dark alcoves.

Except…

I was moving through the stalls, attracted by a display of bright golden-yellow flowers on a floral stand, when a small hand plucked at my sleeve.

‘Lord of the Fountain!’

‘What?’

‘Ecthelion!’ 

I recognised the voice, the touch, and shook my arm to dislodge the hand.

‘Lady Malriniel. How strange to find you here, in the sunlight! Pardon me, I am busy.’  
‘I have to talk to you!’

I stepped away, aware people were starting to stare.

‘I think all has been said between us,’ I told her. ‘Good day, my lady.’

‘No, wait!’

She hurried round to stand before me, looking up with what seemed genuine appeal in her   
eyes.

‘I am sorry for how things happened,’ she said. ‘But I cannot undo that now. What I can do, what I want to try, is make up for it now; I have heard something of importance, I need to tell you…’

‘You can have nothing to say that I need to hear, however.’

‘Ecthelion, don’t! This is not a personal matter, it is about Glorfindel, and…’

But I shook my head and turned away, striding out of the square as swiftly as was decently possible. I had no wish to hear what Malriniel, of all people, had to say about my beloved friend.

*

The party was every bit as dire as I had expected it to be, and then it got worse.

To be fair, I was not in the best of moods after being accosted by Malriniel, and as I had subsequently felt guilty for not listening to her, that made me feel worse about myself. It is foolishness, for put a sword in my hand and let me lead my troops against a foe, and I am as sure and certain as any elf that ever lived, but ellith bewildered me.

Formal wear, of course, and my mother in a startling dress of the brightest red, fringed with black at the hems to stop it being too outrageous. She barely touched me as we began the figure, and I would rather have not had to dance with her at all than see how much my touch was shunned. As soon as possible, she pushed me away and into the company of one of her preferred choices of bride, a dull, wealthy lady from the lesser ranks of the House of the Swallow. After that, I was passed to another ellith, and another… and then I heard a stir and saw a new arrival, a lady in a properly formal black gown, but which looked subtly different from the gowns of the other ellith, and who had brassy golden hair and whose presence was making more than one person stare. As I watched, she gave a little wave at Sídhneth, and my mother. Mother spoke to one of the servants, but Sídhneth, for whatever reason, waved back.

I turned away, pretending not to see, but Lady Glingaernaeth, with whom I was dancing, had other ideas.

‘Who is that?’ she asked. ‘Can it be that poor female from the Undercity? I must say, I am surprised to see her here. But then, I always was.’

As was I, for the current time, but I had no wish to compound my sins against Malriniel by seeming to agree.

‘Lady Malriniel was a frequent guest at one time, yes,’ I said. ‘But she has been busy with other matters.’

‘Oh, I am sure she has!’ Glingaernaeth said, a knowing chuckle in her voice, inviting my laughter. ‘Well. At least she has a new dress for the occasion.’

‘I am always a little bewildered,’ I said, ‘by the importance some persons attach to such matters as apparel; surely it is not relevant?’

‘Says the lord whose armour is shining silver, studded with diamonds!’ The lady raised her eyebrows at me. ‘To which you would reply…?’

‘That it implies your evening engagements are more like battles than entertainments, my lady. But I must tell you that I do not have different set of armour for every different fight I attend.’

She sniffed, and we were both glad when the dance ended and I could take her back to the table where her friends waited. Stepping away to avoid being caught up in conversation, I almost stumbled over Malriniel.

‘I have to talk to you!’

‘No.’ I made an angry gesture, cutting across her. ‘I do not know how you gained access to our house, but you must leave at once!’

‘Not until you listen to me!’

‘Do you really want me to have you removed?’

‘Oh, do you think your mother will enjoy the scandal? With everyone wondering why you no longer want to speak to me? Ecthelion, all I want is a moment…’

‘Very well.’ I drew her away towards the balcony where the doors were open to the evening. ‘What is so important that you intrude yourself into this household?’

‘They…’ 

She broke off as our Master of the House advanced and bowed, taking her arm.

‘Allow me, my lady,’ he said, and swept her off to the dance.

Sídhneth appeared at my side, protection from the horde of hopeful ladies. She led me to a quiet table.

‘Malriniel was getting so upset at the thought of not passing on her message, I persuaded Mother to let her stay; Indorion will stand as her escort. What did she want?’

‘She didn’t have chance to say. Truly, I didn’t want to listen; she accosted me at the Great Market today; it was too public a place…’

‘And you did not listen then, either?’ Sídhneth shook her head at me. ‘Oh, Ecthelion! However public the Great Market might have seemed, it would have been better to get it over with, don’t you think?’

‘Had I known that this would be the alternative…!’ 

I shook my head, and Sídhneth laughed and shook my arm.

‘My dear brother!’ she said. ‘Remember, this is meant to be a celebration; try not to look so dour, you will frighten the good guests!’

‘If I thought I would frighten away some of them…’

The dance ended and I saw Indorion sit Malriniel down, rather forcibly, at a table as far away from the other guests as was possible. Her nearest source of conversation was my mother, and since she kept her attention firmly away from the elleth, Malriniel soon sprang up again as soon as the next dance began, heading straight for where I stood with Sídhneth and using the dancing couples as cover.

‘Ecthelion,’ she began when she reached me. ‘I have to talk to you…’

Sídhneth kept hold of me, preventing my retreat.

‘I really think you should let your friend speak,’ she said. ‘And then you can decide if you want to run away again.’

‘Thank you, Lady Sídhneth! Ecthelion, please, if you would…’

Indorion appeared, and went to take Malriniel’s arm. She pulled away.

‘Ecthelion has just asked me to dance, my lord,’ she said stiffly, and as Sídhneth chuckled softly and pushed me towards the lady, I had no choice but to comply.

It was one of those dances where the pairings formed and re-formed with different partners, so the conversation was oddly stilted. Malriniel began in a rush.

‘I am sorry to bother you, I want to explain, I need to…’ She paused as the dance called for me to turn away from her and circle another lady, who then moved on to another partner. 

‘…I like you, Ecthelion, I really do, that’s what made it so hard to…’

Again, we were taken apart by the dance, and reunited.

‘…they hired me to…’

‘What?’ 

I pulled her from the whirl of dancers, ruining the figure and causing protests.

‘What do you mean?’ I realised I had her by the wrist and my grip was ungentle. I released her. ‘Tell me what you mean, Malriniel, who hired you, why?’

‘I was trying to tell you. Something is happening, somewhere… I don’t know, but you and Glorfindel…’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t mean anything, just… of all the Houses, they fear you the most, you and him. So they thought, you’re so caring of your mother and sisters,’ (she said it with an innocent belief in her words), ‘that they thought I could distract you… they paid me well, but if I’d known… well, it is too late now, I… but the Lord of the Flowers nearly died, and I…’

Indorion loomed over us, took Malriniel’s hand.

‘We were dancing, I believe?’

I sat down in the nearest seat. Malriniel’s words were… strange. But if it were true, if someone was plotting against Glorfindel, against me… was it coincidence Glorfindel was so late home? That he seemed to have stumbled into a troop of Orcs, he who was as good on the trails as any?

‘Are you well, brother?’ Sídhneth asked, dropping into the seat next to me. ‘What did she want to tell you?’

‘Nothing.’ I shook my head. ‘Nothing. Just that she liked me. That she was sorry. Something, or nothing.’

‘You could have simply told me to be less inquisitive!’ she said, laughing. ‘Come, we’re needed in the dance; you left a huge hole in the figure when you sat down!’

Returning to the dance with my sister, we found our way through the partnered pairs until we were in reach of Malriniel and Indorion. At the next pass, Sídhneth stepped out to replace Malriniel, and I whirled her away.

‘I am afraid for you, Ecthelion!’ she said. ‘Your friend was not meant to come back, but he has, and they have sent to me, if I cannot reclaim you, then… they are determined…’

‘In which case, your arriving here is a plan on their part, to reunite us, or on yours, to aid me. I only need decide which of those it is.’

‘I truly mean you no harm,’ she said. ‘And if they think I am here, obeying their commands, then all may yet be well.’

‘What is it, this plan? What’s behind this?’

But she shook her head.

‘Do not ask, I cannot say.’

The dance parted us, and this time, I did not seek her again.

Instead, my attention was drawn across the floor to where my mother was allowing Captain Brechon to hand her glass to her. I snapped my fingers at Indorion, beckoning him over.

‘You had better watch the lady Rivorndis than shadow me,’ I said.

‘My lord, it is at Lady Rivorndis’ pleasure that I do so.’

Shaking my head, I moved to settle at a table further from the dance, and found a drink waiting for me.

Drinking occupied me, made the guests give me a wide berth; I was in no mood to converse or to dance with any.

A change; something…

Over by the open windows, on the balcony parapets, a figure in the dark, hidden by the bright wall of light from the room. But I saw the paleness of hands, moving for balance as whoever it was walked the narrow wall… a long, dark coat, clothing dark too, and then he jumped down and with a glitter of gold, Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, burst in on the party.


	8. Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel's behaviour causes comment...

Glorfindel’s eyes were over-bright, almost fiery, and his hair shone like liquid, flowing gold. He was dressed, not in the colours of his House, or in attire proper for a formal party, but in close-fitting leggings of supple black leather, with boots to match. A white shirt beneath, black tunic over, the whole topped with a long coat which swirled as he moved through the astounded guests to make his greeting to my mother. 

‘Lord Glorfindel,’ she said as he took her gloved hand and bowed over it. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Your daughter invited me,’ I heard him say. ‘And who could say no to the delights available in this House?’

He kissed the back of her hand, her wrist, her forearm, working his way up to the exposed skin of her upper arm.

‘Well, my lord, I am glad to find you …friendlier… than previously,’ she said, reclaiming her hand before he could quite overstep the mark. ‘Perhaps it has been worth the wait! Now, I must dance with someone…’

‘And here I am, usefully present.’ Glorfindel bowed and extended his hand, a smile on his face that to me looked fake and forced. ‘Let me attend you.’

I could do nothing but watch as my Findel led my mother onto the dance floor. Glorfindel ignored me with the utmost determination, although how he could not have seen me was impossible to imagine.

‘I did,’ Sídhneth murmured at my side. ‘I did invite him, but I had no idea he would be like this… oh, brother, what is he doing?’

It was almost as if a stranger were in possession of the body of the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, for never had I seen such behaviour from him; Glorfindel’s hold on my mother was little short of illicit; where the dance called for him to take her by the waist, his hand would curve just a fraction too high. Or to turn her under his arm, he would lean in just a little closer than was proper. And so through the figure; touches and strokes and intense looks and I did not know how to bear it, my beloved making free with my parent; it was doubly painful, twice as offensive… any other elf and I would have intervened; any other partner and I would have stepped between them, but I was manacled by convention into letting the figure play out…

…until Malriniel escaped Indorion’s watch and sidled up to me.

‘Oh, if I have to spend another minute dancing with that fellow! He is forever telling me to mind my steps and my dress is too short, and I need to behave nicely, and it is none of his business!’ she sighed and pushed into the space between myself and my sister; Sídhneth smiled to herself and kindly made room as Malriniel clutched at my arm. ‘Look there! That’s Glorfindel, is it not? How handsome he is! But so forward! Is he always like this, my lord?’

‘Not in my experience, Lady Malriniel.’

‘I need to talk to him,’ she said. ‘Or for you to talk to him.’

‘About what?’

‘The danger I told you of…’

Sídhneth glanced at her.

‘Danger, Malriniel?’

‘Not to you. Not directly, Lady Sídhneth; I can say no more to you, but speak to Lord Glorfindel I must.’

‘You and my brother should dance together, then’ Sídhneth observed. ‘That will give you an opportunity. I’ll keep Indorion company, and Ecthelion, you can remember my kindness later.’

Thus prompted, I rose to my feet. For myself, I could not see what danger there might be, but if there were any risk for Glorfindel, he should have the chance to learn of it.

‘It seems, Malriniel, that you and I were allies, at least for the moment. Although I still do not know what…’

‘Hush,’ she said, leading me to the dance. ‘Be careful what you say and where you say it, my lord.’

The figure of the dance wove around the room, and we took our place where we would be bound to connect with my mother and Glorfindel. As the dance drifted around us, I took my chance to speak.

‘Glorfindel, you are well?’

He shot me a look of contempt; to be fair, of all the things I wanted to say to him, this was hardly a good opening. I tried again at the next conjunction of our couples.

‘I have missed you.’

This drew a response.

‘Oh, have you so? And yet you, in your health, did not visit me when I was confined to the house…’

‘It was you asked me to stay away!’

‘I did not think you would!’

The dance flung us apart, and only the glitter of his eyes, diamonds in the sapphires, suggested to me he felt any emotion other than anger.

‘For your sake, Glorfindel. I missed you.’

‘You missed…’

He pushed past me, abandoning my mother, and stalked towards the balcony, catching up a bottle of wine from a server on the way. I saw the dance out, trying not to stare after him. The music ended, finally, and with relief I went to lead Malriniel back to the table, but halfway there Captain Brechon stepped in, offering her his hand and although she looked after me as if this was something to be feared, she smiled and followed.

The musicians struck up a different tune; a fast, whirling, swirling dance that was favoured by the Men, a figure for the males only, intended to show agility and speed. 

Glorfindel watched from the threshold for a moment, shrugged out of his coat and leapt back onto the floor. He danced it beautifully, the swiftness of his movements showing the bunch and flex of his muscles, the power of him… at one level, I was aware of how well he moved, and that it indicated a full return to health for him, on another I burned, he made me burn, his hair lying against the restraint of his braids, the leather of his leggings showing all the beauty of his form. The other dancers fell back, allowing him sole possession of the floor, aware they could not compete or afraid of collision, for there was a wildness to his performance, for all its grace and power, that gave a dangerous edge to it.

The music drew towards its end, and he flung himself with more abandon into the figure, ending with a flourish and a leap that took him across to my mother, and the final note of the music sounded as he landed beside her table and sat there, only a little out of breath, her admiring eyes full of him.

I made my way back to where Sídhneth waited, my heart sick and sore.

‘Give him a little time,’ Sídhneth said. ‘He has not been well, and he is not himself tonight; he is still taking treatment, or I miss my guess. He is drinking heavily, too,’ she added. ‘He arrived with a bottle in his hand, and that’s his third glass of the strong spirits.’

The evening became, for me, one of torment and abject misery as Glorfindel danced with elleth after elleth. It mattered not one jot that they had been selected as potential partners for me; what mattered was seeing him behave so licentiously towards them, and how they loved it and encouraged him, even when their male escorts protested.

Next to me had been an empty table; peripherally I was aware that someone had taken places there, but it was only when Sídhneth nudged me and cleared her throat that I tore my eyes from the spectacle of the dance to see who it was.

‘Lady Idril, Lord Tuor, well met,’ I said, for they had not presented themselves to my mother or me earlier. ‘Forgive me for not greeting you when you arrived…’

‘We were delayed,’ Idril said. ‘A pity, for it seems all the excitement in the city is here tonight; Glorfindel moves as one who has his full powers back, it would seem.’

‘It is good to see him recovered,’ I said.

‘A word, my lord, if you would be so good,’ Tuor said in his light, Mannish voice. ‘Something which needs saying, and I know you will hear me out before you decide whether or not you are angry.’

‘That sounds alarming. Very well.’

He led the way to the edge of the room.

‘It has been told around the markets that the lady Malriniel would be present tonight,’ he said. ‘Even though it is told amongst the Houses that you and she are now unfriends. Both cannot be true, and here she is.’

‘Both can be true,’ I said softly. ‘No-one was more surprised than I to see her here tonight. So how her attendance could be a matter of common report…’

‘…is a matter to be carefully considered,’ Tuor interrupted. ‘Here is Lord Glorfindel, pretending to be well where in reality, the healers still attend him. This is the first time he has left his House since he was taken thence from the Healers Halls…’

I remembered the glint of gold through the trees near the Lake of the Swans, but held my peace; perhaps it had not been Glorfindel, perhaps it had merely been the wish of my heart.

‘…and for him to arrive thusly, my lord, one wonders if it is mere coincidence, or if news of Lady Malriniel brought him…’

‘Lord Glorfindel was, at least, invited,’ I said. ‘Sídhneth asked him to come, if he was well enough.’

‘It could make some persons wonder why he appears so… interested, my lord, in your connection with this lady. However, from my own experience, I know that marriage takes up much of one’s free time, and gives one pause. Perhaps he is concerned merely that if you were to marry, you will not be free to go about with him, and Lord Rog, and Lord Egalmoth, as much as you have. And perhaps it is the concern of nobody but yourself, my lord.’

‘Tuor, I have long considered you as much a friend as any of those lords you named. I have learned to value your opinion. But…’

But now I wondered, how had Glorfindel known about Malriniel to begin with? Certainly none of our friends-in-common would have thought it worth mentioning a person who had moved so quickly in and then out of my life. 

Tuor spoke.

‘Something, somewhere, is amiss,’ he said. ‘I find my counsel to our king is no longer of first importance; instead, others have his ear, those who advise more cautious causes than I would suggest. It strikes me as odd, my lord, that one as experienced as Lord Glorfindel should be lost to us for so long… almost as long, in fact, as was Lord Maeglin…’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘I hardly know. But of the two, my faith would have been in Glorfindel. Until tonight.’ He paused, frowning as he stared at where Glorfindel was dancing now with Malriniel. ‘And yet this party brings together two who not usually meet…’

‘Malriniel came to bring warning,’ I said, putting my faith in Tuor. ‘She claims the intention was that Glorfindel should not return from his patrol. What’s more, she said she had…’ I hesitated, for it was shameful to admit. ‘That she had been encouraged to seek me out and distract me. I fear you are correct; something is amiss somewhere.’

The partnership between Glorfindel and Malriniel broke up amidst apparently angry words. Tuor nodded.

‘I did not wish to think those two in collusion,’ he said. ‘This proof is comforting. I am ever your ally, my lord, and honoured you call me friend. Now my wife calls me.’

A bow, and he retreated. I waited a moment or two more, my eyes on Glorfindel as he danced with Sídhneth, and then returned to my place. Idril and Tuor were no longer at the table but that was as well; I needed a little while to take in all that had been said, and not-said, between us.

Malriniel dropped into the chair at my side, leaned in to whisper to me.

‘I am observed, my lord, and so must convince them that I am making progress with you…’

‘How did matters go with Lord Glorfindel?’ I asked, easing away. ‘I saw enough to gather it did not go well?’

She sighed, her shoulders drooping. ‘He will not hear me, does not listen, he is… I do not know, he has no sense in him tonight, he wanted to know, my lord, when we met, when we ceased to be friends, what the truth of us is… I… someone was listening, I could not answer and so he flung me off.’ 

‘You tried, at least, and at risk to yourself.’

Malriniel patted my arm, leaned close again, and kissed my cheek.

‘My lady! Do not...’

‘I told you, I am watched. As are you, my lord. Have a care, there is only so much I can do.’

It was my turn to grow angry, to sigh. I shook my head.

‘Malriniel, I am grateful for the warning you have tried to give, but you say so little the information is as good as useless! Please, sit upright, do not… do not maul me. It is unbecoming.’

‘You should say that to your mother,’ she said softly, and rose from the chair as the supper bell summoned everyone from the room.

I followed, slinking more than walking, to wander round the tables and clutch a plate and a wine cup; the wine occupied me more than the food, the press of people was an irritant; crowds are not easy for me, for any warrior, I think. As soon as I might I abandoned the press of people and retreated to the balcony in the larger room once more, breathing in the cool air. Several of the musicians were playing in the supper parlour, and the sounds drifted in, overlying the low hum of conversation.

‘What’s happened to us, Thel?’ Glorfindel joined me on the balcony. ‘I thought we had something, the start of something, and then… what?’

‘I do not know. But I thought as you did, that perhaps we had a chance…’

‘And then you found yourself a… what do you call her? A lady-friend? A whoreslap?’ 

‘Others call her that. I did not know, when we met, how she earned her bread. I explained, Findel, it was a foolish idea I had, and I soon realised as much.’

‘Before or after, I wonder, you discovered her trade?’

‘Before, really. But then I learned she… she told me herself, she had been charged with thrusting herself upon my notice, which makes me a dupe as well as a fool…’

‘Tonight, though, she’s here, and I saw her fondling you…’

‘You were not meant to see…’

‘Is that so, Lord Ecthelion? Was I not?’

‘That is not what I meant,’ I said, my tone abrupt. I saw a small smile arrive and fade from his face. ‘She claims to be watched by someone and to protect me, she says, she must act so and I, to protect her, have allowed a certain degree of intimacy. Glorfindel, there is danger to you somewhere, and I would…’

‘Dance with me, Thel,’ he said, interrupting. ‘Be quiet, don’t speak, let me pretend everything is well between us. I can’t, Thel, I can’t…’

He took my hand and led me towards the empty dance floor.

‘Glorfindel…’

‘Hush.’

Males dancing together was not common in Gondolin; it was sometimes seen amongst the Mannish communities outside, and as earlier in the evening, one or two dances might be played for males to perform together, but for a group, not a couple. But Glorfindel had silenced my protests and, really, I was beginning to feel I did not care what else happened; to have him here, to put my arms around him, to have his arms around me, to be this close, moving, turning as one, thighs touching, hips softly brushing, and his face so near to mine… 

The music led us around the dance floor, slowly turning, holding and drawing close, separating for a beat or two, but then returning to the sanctioned embrace of the dance. 

Presently, the music ceased, and as our bodies stilled, Glorfindel exhaled softly and eased closer, pressing his cheek against mine.

‘So beautiful, Ecthelion, my heart beats so hard, I want and need and love and it is all too much…’

Too much, indeed. He gave a smile that for a moment looked as he had used to look, before his injury, and kissed me.

My senses swooned as my heart expanded in my chest, my body responding to the illicit, erotic touch of his lips on mine, the heady heat of his breath as we parted once more. It was I pulled away, I think, afraid what might happen were we seen for it had been him initiated the kiss, he who would have the most blame, the most censure if we were discovered… but for a moment, a heartbeat, I glimpsed a world beyond the walls of Gondolin, a place where Glorfindel and I might create a love story to outlast the world…

I relaxed my hold on him, but he was not yet ready to separate.

‘You would pull away, Ecthelion? Even now, after this?’

‘Only because the music has ended. We will have company soon; I would not bring censure down upon you…’

‘Are you sure that is why?’ He dropped his arms abruptly, leaving me cold and heartsick, fearing the change in his voice. ‘It is not in case your lady sees?’ 

‘Glorfindel, this is Gondolin. It is not safe…’

‘Safe? What care I for safe?’ He shook his head and took another step back. ‘I understand the pressures on you, on us, and I would turn my head away and not see, but all I hear is you saw her in the market by day and by night, and here she is in your house; it is the deceit, Ecthelion, more than all else…’

‘There is no deceit; I have been plain with you. Once I saw her at the Night Market, and that was by chance, when we ended, and at the market today she accosted me, and tonight…’

He shook his head.

‘That is not what I was told.’

‘I cannot help that!’ I protested. ‘But know I am not foresworn, I have not lied or attempted to conceal any of this from you. Findel, I missed you.’

He stalked to the balcony where he stood to the side of the open window, shielded from the room, staring out.

‘I missed you,’ I repeated.

‘No, you did not,’ he said. ‘Not as I did you, on that hillside. Night and day, drifting in and out of the pain, wishing for you, hoping just to see you one more time before my death, all the things unsaid between us, unspoken, all we had left unshared, untouched and…’ He turned to look at me, and I was sure I saw the overspill of emotion from his eyes. ‘And when the swans came, I knew… Except here, tonight, you are dancing with her. After you said all was at an end between you. And I wonder, what other lies are there between us?’

‘There was no lie,’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘I was as surprised to see her as I was to see you. But your arrival was far more welcome. Truly, I have missed you.’

‘You know where I live. You could have come at any time.’

‘You told me not to come!’

‘That’s an easy thing to say! I would have found a way, had it been you.’ He drew the back of his hand across his eyes and shook his head. ‘Oh, Ecthelion, you could have had all of me, we might have set the sky alight together, and instead…’

‘Instead, we find ourselves in Gondolin.’

‘I cannot bear it, Ecthelion; I thought, while I had you, the hope of you, I could, but I see it all now and there is only one way for this to end…’

He descended from the balcony and stood facing me. Distantly, I was aware that he had pulled a knife from its sheath at his side; a small thing, ornamental, pretty, set with bright sapphires. Decorative, but no less sharp for that, and he lifted it in a swift motion and placed it to his neck, just below his ear.

‘Findel!’ I protested, and ran down the steps to stand before him. ‘Do not do this; there is no need…’

‘There is every need! Would that I had died on the hillside, still believing in your affection, but…’

‘Keep believing, Findel, for I love you,’ I said. ‘Your death would destroy me as much as if your knife were in my heart.’

‘Should I, then, take you with me?’ he asked, his eyes glittering with wild emotion as he moved his knife hand so the tip of its small, ferocious blade was at my throat. ‘We cannot be together here, but in the Halls of Waiting…’

I swallowed. Our deaths would gain nothing, but if Glorfindel was so set on self-destruction, then I would not care to live. Yet to deprive Gondolin of both our Houses; might, if trouble were coming…

‘I will stand in your stead,’ I told him. ‘You do not lack courage; live on, erase me from the world if your peace needs it, but do yourself no harm…’ 

‘Ecthelion, I cannot… I can’t do you harm, I…’

Findel stepped back, but as he went to lower his knife hand, his arm was grabbed, the blade taken; Tuor stood between us and I realised he was not the only other occupant of the hall; most of the guests, in the process of returning, had paused at the edges of the room to watch us and mutter between themselves.

‘This is foolishness, my lords,’ the Man said in his light, level voice. ‘No good will be served by harming yourself, Lord Glorfindel. Lord Ecthelion, stand away; you make Glorfindel’s judgement uncertain. It is the drugs, I fear, the medication our friend requires for his condition.’

He set Glorfindel’s knife down on a table and I stepped back, beginning to tremble as I realised how close my beloved friend had come to harming himself. Tuor, however, had not finished.

‘I have seen more than I wished to this night, Lord Ecthelion,’ he said. ‘For the sake of our friendship, I will try to un-see it, and I will reiterate: Lord Glorfindel is not himself, it is the medication of which he must partake which has driven him to this fey mood. Moreover, I will say, if I am asked, that your reactions were just those of one who sought to calm a dangerous situation.’

I bowed. ‘I am grateful, my lord Tuor,’ I said. There was nothing more I could say, or do, but my eyes sought Glorfindel and I realised he, too, had not finished.

‘Ecthelion, I don’t know what came over me, I… silly again, oh, I just want…’

‘I know,’ I said, ‘so do I, my dear friend,’ and all may have been well, but Malriniel came hurrying up. She put her hand on my arm.

‘Ecthelion, I am sorry, he is watching…’ She lifted up onto her toes and kissed me briefly on the lips; after Glorfindel’s embrace, I felt tainted, went to push her away, but she released me and turned towards my friend. ‘Lord Glorfindel, there is something I must say…’

‘You’ve said enough!’ Glorfindel said with a growl. ‘Ecthelion, I will never believe a word you say ever again!’

‘What?’ Malriniel stared from one of us to the other. ‘You…? Ecthelion, are you and him…?’

‘I doubt it,’ I said, softly, sadly. ‘Malriniel, sit down. Let me talk to Glorfindel.’

‘I do not want to talk to you,’ he said. ‘Or your whoreslap there.’

‘That was uncalled for,’ I protested.

‘No, it is not,’ Malriniel said. ‘But I have to tell you both…’

What she wished to say was left unspoken, for at that moment I found myself jostled, something placed into my hand, my arm pushed and me thrust forward towards Malriniel. She gave a little gasp and folded over, her hand going to her ribs and with growing horror I saw a knife, blood-covered, in my hand.

‘Malriniel!’ 

I lowered her down as she convulsed, blood appearing on her lips as she struggled to breathe and speak. 

‘Bre…Bre…’ 

‘What did you do that for?’ Glorfindel dropped to his knees beside me, snatched his knife from my hand. ‘There was no call to kill her, Ecthelion!’

‘I did not!’ I protested as Malriniel stirred, tried to clutch at me with feeble hand.

‘Ecth… no... they… a way in…’ She sighed out a frothing breath. ‘They are coming.’

She stilled, the life gone out of her. I stared at her, then at Glorfindel who was shaking his head and rising, backing away, the bloody knife now in his hand. 

Around us voices rose, that of Brechon amongst the loudest.

‘The lady is murdered! Glorfindel and Ecthelion have done this; see the blood!’

‘Dead? How?’

‘But why?’

‘Glorfindel?’

‘Lord Ecthelion?’

‘They must be taken to Turgon.’ This from Brechon once more. ‘I shall see to it…’

‘You shall not, my lord.’ Tuor’s voice cut over Brechon’s outraged cries. ‘You are mistaken. I saw it all.’

‘But look at their hands!’ someone protested. ‘And it is Lord Glorfindel’s knife…’

‘Lord Glorfindel’s knife was set on that table,’ Turgon said, his voice resolutely calm. ‘He was not near enough to reach it.’

‘But look at the blood!’ another voice said. ‘Tuor, we will take them both to King Turgon…’

‘No.’ I struggled to rise, found hands on me as I did so. I shook them off. ‘I took Glorfindel’s knife… I… it was foolish of me, I thought to… my life is intolerable and…’

Glorfindel stared, shook his head. 

‘Why would you…?’

‘Glorfindel came to help her, but too late,’ I said. ‘I did not mean for… I regret… I…’

More hands took me, pulled me away. Tuor’s even voice followed me as I was dragged from the room.

‘Lord Glorfindel was standing too far from the lady to have killed her. It seemed to me that Lord Ecthelion was careless, and that the lady did not see the blade as she moved towards him…’

*

There is a room in our House where those who are overwrought are taken; it happens at whiles, when the memory of battle or of the Helcaraxë is too much, that we need solitude. To this room I was taken, my clothes searched for any weapon with which I might harm myself – it seemed my words of despair had been taken seriously, and perhaps my demeanour, frantic as I was for Glorfindel’s safely, had raised concerns. For whatever reason, however, I was locked in, left to myself to shake and shudder and try to make sense of this terrible evening.

Healers came. My mother stood, lacing and unlacing her hands as they advanced on me.Tuor came. Some hours had passed, an interval I had spent weeping and trying not to weep, replaying the horror of Malriniel’s death over and over; it had not been my intent, but yet it had been by my hand, and then to have Glorfindel think I had killed her… 

‘You need rest, my lord,’ one said.

‘You were heard to say you intended self-harm.’

‘I… no, it is not…’

‘You tried to drown yourself recently. You must drink this.’

‘I do not want…’

‘Your state of mind is frail. You require healing before you can be questioned.’

Over my protests, they laid hands upon me, forced a draft down my throat. Across the room, I glared at my mother as she stood watching. 

‘Rest, Lord Ecthelion, and recover quickly,’ the healer said. ‘We will come in the morning.’

‘They are coming,’ I said, looking beyond them to my mother. ‘They are coming…’

But my eyes dimmed and blackness crowded my vision. I felt falling, falling, and a soft surface under me as the world swirled away.


	9. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion wakes...

I swam up out of dark, dreaming waters.

‘They are coming,’ I said, ‘they are coming…’

Hands patted my shoulders, my head was tipped back, a bitter liquid poured down my throat, and the darkness flowed back in.

*

Waking. Protesting, crying out, sinking down again.

_They are coming…_

*  
Next time, I dreamed with more clarity. I dreamed of Glorfindel’s swans, that I watched him moving amongst them. But instead of affectionate and loving creatures, white against the gold of his hair and the blue of his eyes, they turned against him, becoming dangerous and wild, beating their wings around him as they hissed and attacked with their hard, sharp bills, and I saw him fall beneath their wrath, while overhead I saw the shapes of dragons and fire-drakes and other fell beasts of the air.

‘They are coming!’ I cried, fighting awake once more and looking around me for a weapon to grasp. ‘They are coming!’

‘Ecthelion,’ my mother said from the doorway. ‘It is too late. They are here.’


	10. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion leads his House to battle in the defence of Gondolin...

‘They are here,’ my mother repeated. ‘We are attacked.’

I felt the swoon and sweep of unconsciousness grasping at me once more and over it, my mother and the healers arguing, their voices drifting far, far away...

_‘You must give him more, he is still too drowsy.’_

_‘My lady, it is not safe, he needs four hours between draughts…’_

_‘We do not have four hours! The walls are burning, there is fighting on the plains. We will all be dead in four hours!’_

_‘An hour, at least, my lady, or he will…’_

_‘There is no time! Give him the draught, without him we are as good as slain!’_

Hands lifted me, another stinging, burning draught and I shuddered awake.

‘They are…’

‘Yes, Ecthelion,’ my mother said. ‘They are coming. They are here, in fact, at the gates at the walls. You are needed in battle. Can you stand?’

I could, and did. The room seemed a-glitter with bright pinpoints of light, multihued, dancing motes. The blood surged in my veins, I could sense every minute process of my body as I turned and looked in wonder at the room. Simply furnished, stark and white, to me now it was shouting with colour and texture. Strange, new sensations of euphoria and immeasurable might surged through me; this, I wondered, was this how it felt to be Maia, or Vala? I was without limit. 

Something, though, was amiss… the words spoken, a matter so urgent it had woken me from stupor..

_…They are coming…!_

Ah. That was it, we were endangered… 

‘What happened?’ I asked. 

‘There is a traitor somewhere. They attacked last night, as we gathered for Tarin Austa. You are needed, Ecthelion!’

‘Madam,’ one of the healers protested, ‘your son needs rest…’

‘Out! Out, all you healers, go! My son needs his arms! Someone send for Hastaerion, now! Bring garments for Lord Ecthelion, hurry!’

‘What…? Why is everything shining…?’ I asked. Vaguely I was aware of something terrible, but I could no longer remember what it was… and I felt wonderful; alive and brave and nothing, nothing was impossible to me.

‘It is the medicine you were given to wake you, Ecthelion. I am sorry, it is strange to wake so, and were we not under attack, then… come, never mind that. The battle rages, you are needed.’ She poured water for me with her own hands. ‘Drink, Ecthelion, it will help clear your mind. I have sent for your esquire, you must hasten. It has been given out that your troops are kept in reserve – we cannot have two Lords of Houses in their beds while Gondolin burns – but you must hurry…’

‘They… they are coming,’ I said. ‘No, they are here? We are beset?’

‘Finally…! Yes, my son, on all sides! It is nigh on hopeless, but we must try…’

I ran my hand through my hair, rubbed my eyes. The bright glints of colour were fading now, dancing and shimmering at the edges of my vision, and my sight began to clear.

‘Where are my sisters?’ I asked. 

‘They are safe. Tuor sent word, they are with Idril. She has a way of escape prepared, he says…’

I remembered, then, that Tuor had feared there was something wrong. 

‘Good, that is good. You should go too, Mother.’

‘No, I cannot leave you, Ecthelion, I…’

‘You must go. Unless you want to take up arms and defend the city, you should seek my sisters. Have them send my clothes, and go. Take all the servants. Be safe.’

‘But I…’ She paused, her chest heaving, and laced and unlaced her fingers again. Finally she nodded. ‘Very well. Be safe, Ecthelion. I cannot lose you, too, to battle. I will seek you later.’

My squire arrived at the same time as my garments. He shook his head and began to help me dress.

‘What news, Hastaerion?’ 

‘Nothing good, my lord. We were attacked last night. Lord Tuor counselled the king to meet the attack to the plains, but Lords Maeglin and Sargant argued against. King Turgon agreed it were better to stay within our walls. Now Lord Maeglin is revealed as a traitor, and Lord Tuor cast him to his death. There is battle about the gates, and the walls are beset. Lord Tuor and his reserves are summoned to the western walls where new attacks are expected, and that is where you are needed, my lord.’

‘My armour...’

‘It would be swifter to bring you to it, my lord…’

I nodded, pulled on my boots, and left the room, heading towards the armoury. On the main stairs I caught a glimpse of myself in the looking glass; my eyes were glittery, over-bright, putting me in mind of Glorfindel when he had arrived at my mother’s party.

Glorfindel.

How was he faring in this battle? Was he still alive, even? 

Surely I would know?

In the armoury, Hastaerion pushed pieces of armour onto my body, strapping me in. The silver shone and the diamonds sparkled and with each piece I donned, my strength returned, my confidence grew.

‘Have the troops been summoned, Hastaerion?’

‘They have, my lord. They await you. Shall your horse be saddled?’

An image rose, unbidden, of my helm's spike catching on the arches as I led my troops to war... 

‘No, I will lead on foot. Have the musicians assemble.’

‘My lord?’

'The pipers, the flautists; we will march into battle with music playing; we will teach the enemy to fear the sweet songs of the flute.’

There seemed a sort of rightness I could not quite pinpoint about leading with beautiful sounds. I felt my spirits soar as my sword was buckled on, my helm set in place. Another reason for not being on horseback; I would have had to duck to go beneath the bridges and archways of the city… so amused was I at this that I burst out laughing.

‘My lord?’ 

‘Do not mind me, Hastaerion. Apparently, it is just the medicines… I wonder we are not all dosed with them, before battle, it would be wonderful…! To the West Walls, then.’

I strode out into the courtyard and addressed my company, my spirits rising as I saw them in their wondrous array.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting, my fine lads,’ I began. ‘My mother let me sleep in…’

This drew a few laughs, nervous, edgy. I reigned in my bravado, took on my mantle of Lord of the House of the Fountain.

‘My friends, we go to defend our city!’ I told them. ‘Gondolin the fair, our beautiful home, is beset. To the West Walls now with me, where we shall support the noble House of the White Wing. Pipers, begin your tunes… make them happy, lively, marching tunes and let all who follow hold their heads high and bear courage in their hearts!’

I gave the sign, the music started, the captains shouted orders, and we moved out.

*

It’s odd, but I don’t remember much of our march through the city; drunk on the drugs my mother had insisted they give me, I suppose. I felt… obscenely, given the death and destruction all around me, I felt invincible, untouchable, giddy with anticipation, proud of my company and trusting the weapons in our hands. I remember shouting a lot, mostly ridiculous commands such as ‘In time to the pipes, and kill the Orcs…two three… now the dragons, two three…’ but fortunately my captains just grinned and let the troops find their own pace. Certainly, we killed many orcs and as for the dragons… I remember shouting at the dragons, swearing at them and raging so that their fires were dimmed, somehow, and several fell to our weapons. 

We reached the West Walls before the attack hit. I found Tuor in the press, and we clasped arms.

‘Thank you, my friend,’ he said. ‘I had thought we would hold the walls alone.’

‘I overslept,’ I said, and, seeing him puzzled, I spread my hands in apology. ‘They have fed me the same medicines Lord Glorfindel has been taking. They make me feel… odd. Forgive me. What news is there?’

‘Little of good. Will you make me tell the bad?’ 

I nodded, and he sighed.

‘Turgon is in despair. Maeglin is dead. Rog is dead, and all his company with him…’

I bowed my head. Rog had been a stalwart friend.

‘We will mourn them later,’ Tuor said. ‘When we have time. Of good news, your sisters are safe with Idril…’

‘I am grateful, Tuor.’

‘…and last I knew, the House of the Golden Flower was fighting most valiantly. As we must now, I fear.’

‘Live or die, Tuor, it is an honour to stand with you.’

I returned to my place, gathered my company.

‘Stow now your pipes,’ I said. ‘Later we will play songs of victory. But for the present, all hands to weapons. Kill the Orcs! Slay the dragons! Take no quarter – we fight for Gondolin!’

*

The city wall broke. Orcs burst against our wall of warriors, a tide of black blood as they died on our spears and swords. Minor Balrogs came, and I did battle with them. Several died, but it was only after Hastaerion cried out and rushed towards me that I realised my arm had been injured.

‘Ai, it is nothing,’ I said, lifting my arm and flourishing it. ‘See?’

But he stared, and paled and I realised my arm had not, in fact, responded to the command I thought I had sent it. Blood and charring showed through my melted armour and my hand would neither clench nor unclench.

‘I feel nothing,’ I told him, and it was true; there was no pain, just a numbness. ‘Besides,’ I went on, ‘I have two arms, and this is a one-handed sword. It is fine, it is nothing. I will be fine.’

While I was reassuring him, a cry went up of ‘Ware dragon!’ and a huge creature darkened the skies over our heads, flaming friend and foe alike. Tuor growled, gathered himself, and leapt, hewing at its foot. The beast retreated, howling its pain, to wreak havoc elsewhere, and we stood and laughed that we had survived.

But only for a heartbeat or two. A fresh assault, and we were hard pressed. I took stance with Tuor, shoulder to shoulder and our two Houses fought for our city with all our might, but... it was not enough. 

‘If we can get them to the King’s Square,’ I said, ‘we might find reinforcements there. At any rate, we can defend the narrower ways better than this huge expanse.’

‘True.’ Tuor said. ‘We can at least buy time for our friends. And… long have we worried that something might happen. My wife has a secret way of escape. If we live long enough.’

We began to fall back, a cautious retreat, leading our enemy gradually towards the King’s Square where we hoped to make our stand. Others we found there, too. I caught sight of the standard of the House of the Golden Flower, saw a bright glint of sunlight on armour; Glorfindel’s golden hair shining more brightly than his golden breastplate, his cloak of red streaming out as he whirled and danced in battle. 

I found myself weeping and laughing at the same time. For my beloved was alive, and I was seeing him in glory and beauty who I had feared never to see again… yet he was sore pressed as he fought.

He was not the only one, however; I heard a cry close at hand; Tuor was beset, fallen, Orcs over him; without thinking, I swung my sword, allowed its momentum to carry me across to him. Two of the creatures fell, dead, a third snarled.

‘Oh, really?’ I demanded, and snarled back as I stabbed it through the throat and helped my friend to rise.

‘I am grateful, Ecthelion!’

‘You are welcome, Tuor!’

A cry, a trumpet call, and Turgon and his host arrived. Some he deployed to Glorfindel’s aid, some to erect barriers. We regrouped near the fountain.

‘It is no use,’ the king said. ‘Gondolin will fall; it must. We cannot hold them for long.’

‘But if we can hold them long enough,’ Tuor said, ‘perhaps something can be salvaged. If now, at this last, my king, you will heed me, then we should retreat to the Tower of the King. Once there…’

My eyes were on Glorfindel, still fighting. Just for a heartbeat, he paused to breathe, and he saw me. He bowed, lifted his hand to his heart. I saw his lips move; _I love you_ I thought he said. I repeated the words with the shape of my lips, his gesture. _Always, I love you_.

‘…But we will never hold the square long enough!’ Turgon was protesting.

‘You can, if one stays,’ I said. ‘Tuor, take my company, those who live still. I will secure the retreat.’

‘Not alone; you cannot hold the square alone! I fear you are not well; your pallor is grey, your arm is injured… and it is Gothmog comes, not a minor captain!’

‘All the better; he is but one Balrog; he is puffed up with pride, he will try to best me in single combat to prove his worth, to humiliate me. This will give you chance to retreat. Go, Tuor; my family is in your care, let me do this to secure their safety.’

And Glorfindel’s. Let my sacrifice be also for him.

*

The combined forces of the city retreated to the edges of the square under Turgon and Tuor’s command, gathering in Glorfindel and his House with them. I took one last glance, filling my eyes with him, and then I leaned over the fountain to drink the waters that always refreshed my fëa, as well as quenched my thirst. 

As I looked into the surface, I saw the outline of swans in the reflected ghost-sky, their bodies shimmering, distorted by the play of the fountain’s spouts. I thought of Glorfindel, and my heart ached; I had to survive today so I could seek him and make amends. And so, he had to survive also.

Resting my mind in thoughts of blue, white, and spun, silken gold, I heard a roar rise above the battle as Gothmog arrived in the square and bellowed me to turn and die like the cur I was.

My breathing space was up.

The drugs which may have clouded my judgement and buoyed me up were wearing off; my injured arm ached more than did my heart and I felt fear for the first time that day. I was bleeding from a score of lesser wounds and I felt sick and sad and inadequate for this great task which I knew was to be my last.

Nevertheless, I turned to fight for my life, for my love, for Gondolin.

*

I fought to provoke, to anger, to delay, to goad. I darted in and out and laid in small, stinging blows, allowing my enemy to taunt me that I was nothing, not even a stinging fly, a fly he would crush at a moment of his choosing.

Very well; let it be a moment long from now, giving my beloved time to escape, my friends time to gather themselves. I jabbed at him, a nothing-blow, and laughed as he roared and lifted his arm, his whip aflame. I dodged back, but not far enough or fast enough, and the pain devoured me, my sword falling useless from my ruined arm.

‘What now, little lord?’ Gothmog growled, laughing out flame. ‘Will you sing me to death?’

I grinned through the pain.

‘A dance, perhaps,’ I said, and gathered my strength to throw myself into the air towards him. Under the lash and slash of his whip I sailed, locking my legs around his thighs and bringing my head down to drive the point of my helm into his wicked body. The roaring of him filled my ears, my world, his fire diminishing, and he lost balance, toppling us both over into the fountain.

The flames quenched in a roil of steam. My helm was wedged in his chest, my arms useless, I was unable to break free as the waters took us. My dying enemy convulsed in his death throes, my neck snapping back as I was shaken free and rolled onto my back. The weight of my armour tugged me down, the cool waters soothing after the heat of the Balrog’s flame. 

There was no way back.

It did not matter. I held in my heart the memory of dancing with Glorfindel, the beauty of him, the kiss… I remembered the colours – blue, white, gold, and as I looked up through the shimmer of the waters, I saw overhead the swans passing, flying towards the pass, calling out a five-note clarion call, and I knew in my heart they were going to Glorfindel, to bring him safely home.

  
I knew the swans would save us, in the end.  


End file.
